The Power of Dance
by MystyKitty
Summary: The dance gave her power, gave her strength to carry on, allowed her to forget. The dance was her everything.
1. Pulse

The Power of Dance

By: MystyKitty

She stood at the entrance to the club. The European trip hop beat invaded her mind and deadened the thoughts that threatened to overwhelm her carefully maintained balance. She stood in the humid heat of a New York summer and waited as the bouncers checked ids making sure all that entered were 21. She looked at the id resting in her palm. It looked just like it should, the black italicized Maryland stretched across the top, and an unflattering picture of herself glared back at her. Hermione looked up from the id and looked at her cousins. Standing together they were overlooking the boys that surrounded them. Even at the best of times they tolerated her. In the beginning it was because they were four years older, and as time progressed it was because they just didn't have anything in common. That changed after the summer of her fifth year at Hogwarts. Then the horrible year changed her so much.

She could feel the anger and the fear boiling ever-present below the surface, even after two years the emotions were strong enough to take her breathe away. Inhaling the putrid smell of garbage and hot sweat, Hermione tried to clear her mind. She reached out with her thoughts and grabbed on to the pulsing beat. She let it fill her mind, until all there was there was the steady thump of the bass. Seeing her turn with the bouncer was next she rolled her head along her shoulders, exposing the pale column of her neck an unconscious gesture that screamed sex to all of the people gathered around her. She stepped up to the hulking man collecting the money and handed him the id. He looked at it and back at her face.

"A little from home aren't we?" His voice meant to tease, hit a little to close to the scars that decorated her soul.

"Farther than you think actually."

Her clipped English accent turned heads, while only managing to intrigue the man more. He swept his eyes up and down her body. He took in her waist length chocolate hair, streaked with auburn, bringing to mind a chocolate covered cherry. He slid his eyes over her slender body, compact and full of restrained energy, small but high breasts that rounded over the low neck line of the glittering piece of cloth that she pretended was a shirt. Down over her flat hard stomach to the short, worn denim skirt that caressed her mid thigh, low enough to cover but short enough to tease. He carried his eyes down her slender legs to the low heels that accentuated her tiny feet. He forced his eyes to return to hers, and was struck by the amber orbs that gazed back at him. Her eyes were filled with anger, strength, and urgency, but underneath it was an encompassing feeling of sorrow. Looking into her eyes the bouncer wondered what possibly could have happened in her life that would make her eyes resemble that of an emergency worker, or a war veteran. Shaking his head, knowing the long lines of people that tried to get into Pulse, he let the girl go in, not bothering to get the twenty dollar cover fee.

"Hermione," He called, recalling the strange name on the id. "Be careful in there; don't let anyone try to take advantage." She lifted the corners of her mocha lips in a sad smile

"Don't worry Anthony, no one will try anything with me." Somehow he didn't question why she knew his name or her quiet confidence. She waited as he collected the entrance fee of her cousins, before sweeping into the darkness of the club.

Hermione turned to her cousins and waited until they came to join her by an empty table. She reached into the pocket of her skirt and pulled out a tiny wad of cash. Carefully, so not to draw attention to the action, she handed a few bills to the other two girls. Cab money for when the club closed, they never returned together. Manda always got smashed by midnight and ended up at the apartment passed out by quarter till while Courtney found a new guy every time they went out, and would end up catching a cab from his apartment or from the hourly motels that sprang up in the clubbing district. Hermione, well she would catch a ride from the club, leaving a few moments before the place closed, the echoes of music never leaving her ears, she would return to the tiny apartment, fall dreamlessly to sleep and wake-up the next day at five ready to begin the process all over.

Standing at the table for a few moments longer Hermione watched her cousins walk in different directions, Manda to the bar, and Court to the largest group of preppy boys. Hermione, or My as she was called for this summer, walked to the dance floor, the beat in her ears and already spreading to her whole body. Starting at the outside she felt the music take her feet in its hold, followed by her hips and shoulders. She moved with the music her body twined around the notes in the air, her head gently bobbing with the beat. She danced and danced for hours, sometimes with a partner, mostly without. No one had the heart to try to add another rhythm to the perfectly aligned girl and music.

On the dance floor she was alone, the throngs of people near her were figments of another's imagination, and she didn't feel the oppressive closeness or the heat. Instead all she felt was the beat. She let the music roll over and through her, her hips were swaying and her body rolled, her actions demanded a partner, someone to share the sex that she seemed to promise, there were no takers though, none could match the skill she showed, or the passion she had with the music.

That isn't to say no one noticed though, many eyes were on the slender person on the dance floor. Most watched with a combination of awe and lust, desire for a wavering flame. There were a few however, that wanted more than sex from the dancer. A watchful pair of blue eyes took in the scene, the normal twinkle gone as he watched the most promising student in fifty years dance as though her life could end in a moment; which as he forced himself to consider it could. If any of the dark followers knew she was here her life was worse than forfeit, not only would they murder her cousins and friends, but anyone she spoke to. Then after that they would torture her to the point for breaking before killing her, the girl that ended the Dark Lords reign of Terror before it could really begin. He shook his head and hoped that she found peace before she returned to school, her final year wouldn't be happy, the rumors were rampant, and her disappearance did nothing to quell them. With one last look at the girl on the dance floor he left the club, none of the dancers ever noticing the strangely dressed old man that spent an hour staring at the clubs mystery dancer.

On the other side of the club a pair of eyes followed her every move. A body mimicked her motions, the perfect counter for her body. A mind pictured her in his bed, actions the same, with different results. Buried below the sexual images were thought her never thoughts he would have, the instinctual feeling that the dancer was his partner, a soul mate. He walked out on to the dance floor, his body pulsing with the beat and danced into her little world. Together they danced. The beat throbbed around them, their actions perfectly in sync; they performed a battle for dominance; they dance out anger, hurt and repression. Finally My found a partner that truly felt the beat and could assist her in dancing the pain and thoughts away. They danced long into the night, lost in the music and in each other's bodies.

Finally the music slowed and cut off, the club announcing last call and closing. My reached her hands up and lifted her heavy hair from the back of her neck, entwining her fingers in her hair, she piled it on the top of her head, letting the air conditioned air hit her neck and the damp layers of hair, before it tumbled back down. She looked up into the eyes of her partner and lost herself in two silver pools. She looked into a pair of eyes that screamed emotion, anger, pain and sorrow dominated his eyes as well, but the overwhelming one she stared at him was lust. Lust for her body, and lust to return to the dance that they had shared. She lost herself in those silver pools, swimming in the eyes of a soul mate. A second passed, an eternity. My could feel the after effect of the dance begin to fade, the thought began to surface, before they could fully form she tore her eyes away from the man in front of her and started to walk to the exit. She felt a warm hand on her wrist, a contact far different than the dance, both intimate and strange. She looked back at the man standing in front of her eyes now questioning.

"Do I get to know your name?" He refused to let go of her wrist, as if he needed her name before he could let her go.

"My." Her voice was formal; speaking after dancing was something she hadn't done in a long time. His eyes narrowed, she continued feeling the need to make him understand.

"My name is My, I guess I may or may not see you around." Her accent flooded him with images of home, the pain he had tried to leave behind. Just as she turned to walk out the doors, he looked her right in the eyes, silver to amber, grey to gold.

"My. My name is Drake. We will meet again." He let go of her wrist and watched as the girl walked out of the club, silver eyes watching her every move.


	2. Home

The Power of Dance

Chapter 2: Home

(A/N: I MystyKitty own in no way any part of this fic except the plot. And if JKR wants it she can have it. But no one else can.)

My woke-up to a headache and aching muscles, the rough fabric of the couch grated against her skin. Slowly she sat up and tried to blink the sleep from her eyes. Looking down, she still wore the denim skirt and the glittery top from the night before, her eyeliner smeared under her eyes, making the already dark bags worse. Trying to stretch the sore muscles out, My walked toward the apartment's bathroom passing through the kitchenette. Glancing at the clock on the microwave, she squinted at the numbers that winked and glowed a sickly green.

"11:00" the microwave screamed, all around her clocks seemed to appear, revealing an hour that Hermione hadn't seen since the second week she had come to live with her cousins in muggle New York. My closed her eyes and tried to rub away the headache that lingered after the night's exertions. She tried to sleep in the day, only to wake when it was time to dance. Today it was unlikely that she would ever be able to return to sleep, the cot in the corner was lumpy and painful to sleep on, and tolerable only when drunk, or so tired you are asleep before your body strikes it. Most nights, after dancing the world away, she could come back to the apartment at three or four am and pass out on the army surplus cot until it was time for the cycle to happen again. She eyed the cot and glared at it, she could transfigure it, but with the unpredictability of the new powers, she would be as likely to blow it up as to make it more comfortable. My made a huffing noise deep in her throat and stalked towards the bathroom, unhappy at the hour and her unstable emotions always on the edge.

She walked into the bathroom, seeing and smelling the remains of Mandy's night. The unflushed toilet revealed that Mandy was up, or had been not that long ago. Her own stomach churning with the smell of vomit and sour liquor, My reached up and touched an enchanted knob on the door. A whispered "scourgify" filled the bathroom, glistening pink bubbles covered every surface of the room, picking up the water, tears, sweat and bile. As the bubbles cleaned magical hands swept through the room, folding towels, putting down the toilet seat. Soon, the bathroom was set to rights, everything in its place. The spilled bottle of aspirin was back in the medicine cabinet, and the bottles of shampoo were all neatly in line. The pink bubble rose into the air and popped, leaving the crisply sweet scent of red currents and black tea. Stripping off her shirt and skirt she dropped them on the sparkling floor.

She walked over to combination bath and shower in her underwear, and grabbed her supplies from a shelf. My lined the bottles up in the order that she would use them on the pink plastic ledge. She reached and turned the handles to a scalding heat. Turning the showerhead on, she stepped under the steaming water. She let the burning water caress her skin, leaving red flushed skin in its wake. The sweet steam and the heat cleared out her head and stopped the thoughts, allowing her to be empty. Allowing her to slip into the memory of silver eyes that could see into her soul but didn't, a pair of eyes that matched her, that reminded her she was still a human.

For now.

When the water hitting her skin cooled to a tepid lukewarm My stepped out of the shower wringing excess water from her hair, and allowing water to roll down her over heated body. She walked to the locked door, and stared at her self in the full-length mirror. Her hair, wet and dripping, cascaded down her back, the curling ends tickling her tailbone. She looked at the girl reflecting back at her, and felt conflicted. Even after almost three months of trying to get comfortable in her own skin she was still use to the body that was hers. Her body was thin, almost skinny, except for the hardness of her arms legs and torso, courtesy of months of dancing, and two years of excessive running and hard battle training. She looked at her reflection, and underneath the muscles, her ribs still showed, a remnant of fifth year stress and sixth year depression.

She was always puzzled by her reflection. A petite punk. She was a petite punk that should have been taller. Hermione focused in on her face, examining it, sloping cheekbones, dark brows gracefully arched. Long dark lashes, the perfect frame form amber eyes. She avoided looking into her own eyes. She saw memories in her own eyes. Memories she was trying to escape from. The dark bags that cushioned her eyes distracted her from having to confront her past. They were large and purplish, showing sleep deprivation and stress, the only things that marred her beauty. She was beautiful, despite or perhaps because of almost six years of fighting, terror, and sorrow, Hermione Granger had become a beauty.

Her eyes filled before bitterness swept through her like a tidal wave. It was to fucking bad her mother would never get to see how beautiful her daughter grew to be, after years of telling her that she already was beautiful. Her father would never get to warn a boy against breaking his baby girl's heart, or force her into a jacket after one glimpse of her clubbing clothes. All that she had left was the glares and murmurs of jealous cousins who _allowed_ her to sleep on a cot, in the corner of the living room, for a price. Fighting to hold back the tears that would ruin her carefully constructed façade, My straightened her shoulders and grabbed an oversized bath towel, wrapping it around her thin frame, leaving the bathroom.

She wandered the apartment finally reaching the kitchen. Looking in the refrigerator, she pulled out a nutritionist mandated breakfast. The thought of Shelia made her sigh. The confrontation or intervention hadn't been a wonderful event. She was frog walked to the hospital wing where she was faced with the concerned faces of Dumbledore, McGonagall, Vector and most surprisingly Snape. Harry and Ron forced her into a chair and stood on either side as her teachers told her they were worried about her dropping weight. They told her they understood that in times of stress girls try to control their weight. She laughed in their faces. Told them it was a virus, just forgetting to eat. They bought it.

Until sixth year.

When she collapsed in potions, when her body was so weak from starvation that it wouldn't support her ninety-pound body. When all of her bones were visible, and drinking a goblet of pumpkin juice was too much for her stomach. They had all been furious with her.

"How could the gryffindor know-it-all, the only one in this school with an aptitude for potions be so stupid."

"Miss Granger, I trusted you to be an example to the younger students."

"Hermione. You promised that you would eat. How could you betray me and Harry like this?"

"Hermione. Why?"

Worst of all had to be Dumbledore's response. He just looked down at her, disappointment evident in his eyes. He didn't say a word, just got her a counselor and a nutritionist, and all the while made her feel like a bug that was scraped off the floor. She dealt with it though.

It made her stronger, but it left her vulnerable.

Alone.

After that day she began to withdraw, separate herself from the pain.

Until--

"No." Her mind screamed. My refocused her attention on the raw vegetables and sliced fruit on the plate in front of her, she hated raw celery. Sitting down carefully on a bar stool, careful not to reveal anything private, she turned on the travel TV sitting on the countertop. Switching the channel from bad daytime soaps to CNN, she settled down to watch a story about someone else's life being destroyed or turned upside down.

A dark eyed man stared out into her summertime world with a serious expression on his face. As though he were predicting the fall of Rome, he talked about falling stock prices and the .8 increase in gas prices. The muggle news was slow this early in the day, letting her attention wander My stared at the scrolling news bar, what celebrity was dating whom, and which sports star was in prison. Then the date scrolled in front of her eyes. July 31.

The words "Harry's Birthday" echoed through her mind like a mantra. Leaving the food on the counter, she walked to the little closet she called her own. Opening the sliding metal door, she reached well into the back and groped around in the dark. She pulled out a small brown package, with the words

Harry J. Potter  
Wherever he is  
London, England

She knew no one would try to steal Harry's present especially since it was from her. They were all now so terrified that she would loose her temper that they stayed away. An entire ocean away if possible. Even if someone did try to open it for him, they would simply see a dirty rag that smelled like damp. The gift was for Harry's eyes only. A simple tee shirt, endowed with the strongest protection spells that she could find. Voldemort maybe gone, but Harry had become the target had become for any slime ball that wanted a chance at being the new Dark Lord. She just hoped he wouldn't be to proud or to scared to wear it. Drawing out a long thin stick from a sleeve in the back of the closet she held it over the package and flicked it, whispering "Deliverus" a handy spell when an owl was out of the question. The rush that came from using magic was bittersweet, it was kind of Dumbledore to "allow" her to use magic this summer despite the fact she was underage and because of her situation. Fudge had wanted to break her wand and obliviate her. She watched the package twinkle into the air, disappearing with a feeling of foreboding. She had no idea how Harry would react to her birthday gift. She had withdrawn from him and Ron starting after fifth year, the anorexia conversation and the death of her parents only helped to isolate her from her friends. That didn't stop her from running to their side, to help in the battle. Didn't stop her from saving their lives that awful night when everything came crashing down in a wave of--

STOP.

Her mind screamed. Forbidding her to remember the event in the crystal caverns deep in the forbidden forest. Forbidding her to think about them, knowing the students, faculty and the scar on her chest and tattoo on her back wouldn't allow her to forget. She ran a thin tapered finger along the slightly raised skin between her shoulder blades. Ron and Harry had gone with her to muggle London during the Christmas break, getting their phoenixes etched in their upper arms. Dumbledore's quiet acceptance of the groups meaning gave the trio new strength and resolve that they applied to their school work, and towards any obstacles that stood in their way, like Malfoy, Snape and the vicious jokes of the Slytherin house.

My's eyes closed at the thought of Malfoy. Draco meant Lucius, and Lucius reminded her of that awful night, of what she had become. She raised a hand and placed it over the raised burn directly over her heart. Just like the phoenix on her back, a phoenix stood out on her chest, a shiny reminder of that night. Touching it, she could feel the fire that burned just below the surface, threatening her sanity.

The sounds of vomiting in the bathroom broke her reverie and made her realize that she was sitting crouched in the middle of the hall in a bath towel. She stood and stared at the clothes in the hall closet, hoping that Mandy would be done, she need to fix her damp hair. While it was no longer the bushy hair of her youth, without care it could still curl unpleasantly if she wasn't careful. My reached out and grabbed a pair of jeans and a black tank top. Since she was awake and hated the stillness of the apartment, she decided she needed to get out, there was so much that she didn't know about the city in daylight. She walked past Court's room and heard moans and the telltale squeak of a mattress.

"Hmmm-- she must have found a really nice one, or a really good lay," My thought to herself. Court never brought her hook-ups back with her, unless of course they made it worth her while. She walked into the now empty bathroom, once again trashed and smelly. My sighed and hit the enchanted knob, the room cleaned itself and this time the scent of lemon and lime citrus filled the air. She carefully placed her cloths on the closed toilet seat and walked to the sink. She started performing morning rituals that hadn't been done in nearly two months. It was difficult to do morning absolutions when you slept until night when you go out, and then sleep right through the morning.

She smeared a mask over her face letting it dry as she combed conditioner and detangler into her hair. Washing off the mask she applied layers to her face, moisturizer, sun block, foundation and pale pressed powder. In a country of sun-worshiping beach bunnies tanned to a crisp, she maintained the alabaster skin of her years in the library. Knowing that as a witch she was going to live well into her second century, she planned to force her youth to stay as long as it possibly could. Next she smoothed a cherry lip stain over her full lips, and looked at her self clinically in the mirror. It was a very different image from the bookworm of her fourth and fifth year. She pulled on the tight jeans; tiny flame embroidery at the cuffs and pockets made the designer jeans her own. The tank top fell around her, caressing every curve revealing her athletic body. The person in the mirror didn't belong in Cornwall, or in a dingy apartment building in Manhattan. She belonged on a glossy page. She was a figment of an editor's imagination, a girl on the pages of a fashion magazine. She looked like the girls in magazines that Lavender and Pavarti giggled over, Witch Weekly and the Seventeen magazines that Dean brought them.

Thinking about her roommates made her nervous. A month left to go before she returned to England. One month left to dance away the pain. Most of the time she could forget the looming September first date, the absence of the letter was helpful. The letter that told her what books to buy, robes to bring, and any school announcements helped her to ignore the looming school year. She didn't mind lessons; the quest for knowledge was always something she looked forward to. No the problem was dancing. The idea of no dancing until Christmas was too much for her to bear. Dancing was her drug, her mind number, without it she would have to think about her parents, Harry, Ron, and that night. The fact that she was a murderer.

A murderer, the words flooded her brain.

A murderer.

So what if they were evil bigots. They had families, they had been alive and after her, they weren't. They were dead. The moans from down the hall grew louder and louder until it was obvious that one of the couple had reached a climax. A man's voice crying out "Cookie." The cry broke through My's heartache. She looked to her left and saw the base of toilet, at some point she had crashed to the floor, rocking back and forth, refusing to let the tears fall. She roughly pushed herself off the floor and brushed off her pants. She left the apartment and headed towards the living room, she knew that she couldn't sleep, and staying in this apartment with the silence was out of the question. The quiet got to big, and the tendency to retreat into her mind was too strong. Her mind, thoughts, and feeling were the enemies. Grabbing a CD player and a handful of money from the tin, she left the apartment, checking to make sure she had everything she would need to get back into the building. Pulling the headphones on over her ears she left the building. The steady beat of a strange mix of trance, techno and rap flooded her ears, blocked out her emotions. Hidden behind music she was safe.

My wandered down the Manhattan streets swaying a little bit, her feet and hips moving in time to the beat of the music. Always dancing, she walked straight ahead, avoiding other pedestrian's eyes. The smells of New York food had never before sparked her interest, even the faint odor of it made her ill. Today though, today something was different. The smell of New York style cheese pizza and pretzels perked her hunger in a way that raw broccoli and apple slices never could. Walking past a café filled with twenty-something executives, My floated over to a vendor. She got her pizza and her pretzel and sat on the clear corner of the bench. Away from the pigeon excrement and the putrid garbage. As she ate her food, her lips curved into a half smile, her head counting time for the music. She was unaware of the stares of predatory males and jealous females.

Drake was tired. His mind, body, and soul were tired. He had returned to his one room flat after Pulse at four in the morning. All of his thoughts and feeling bent on one image, one single face. Her face. He wanted to see her again, he wanted to sink into her amber-gold eyes and drown. He wanted to weave his fingers in her waves of hair and never let go. He craved the feeling of their bodies moving together, point and counterpoint, melody and harmony. He shook his head tiredly. Even now he couldn't shake her from his mind. He couldn't shake the feeling that she was important to him. She completed him.

The beep of his watch brought Drake back to his surroundings. The spread of papers in front of him was daunting. Muggle tax forms and transfer of ownership papers filled with hidden clauses. Drake rested his head on the table; white blonde hair fell around his face, soft and light. He cursed his father for dying, it was his last year at school, and instead of a summer of freedom and quidditch he was trapped in America. Muggle America no less, trying to transfer his father's hodge-podge business dealings into his own name. At eighteen years old he had to reconstruct the toppling tower of enterprise that his father had allowed to slip in the last four years.

Drake sipped his coffee, re-reading the stock agreement with Mi-cro- soft, for the fourth time trying to understand the almost foreign language it was written in. He rubbed his eyelids carefully. He had no idea that muggle lawyers could be so bloody incomprehensible. He wanted to return to the wizard world so badly. Yet after a month as a muggle, he also had a grudging respect for them, which was combined with a growing anger at Dumbledore for refusing to allow a grant of magic use in a foreign land.

The words of the contract floated in front of his eyes. He just couldn't seem to concentrate. The muggles that surrounded him were distracting. The pretentious sounds from the men and women all around him made him think of My. A muggle, a dancer, perhaps a soul mate. A girl he met by chance and would never see again.

A man sitting a the table next to him whistled loudly and turned to Drake, the only male close to him. "Damn kid, check out that ass. I'd like to tap into that." Drake's insides twisted at the blatant lust and crudity in the man's voice. How could anyone be so vulgar? Then he remembered some of the "parties" his father hosted, his pale cheeks heating, but by force of will kept his expression stony, his gray eyes flinty and cold. HE refused to allow the muggle to affect him adversely.

He followed the disgusting man's stare and took in a sight he never thought to see. Delicate heeled sandals strapped to tiny feet, tight jeans and a tiny tank top. Eyes traveling up her body Drake took in soft shiny chocolate hair streaked with red. It was her. She was sitting in front of him, her foot counting out the beat of the music pumped into her brain. Her eyes were closed as she ate the pretzel and bobbed her head to the music flowing from the headset.

Unable to resist Drake stood up, leaving his papers and meal on the table. He walked towards the girl, not even hearing the crude man shout.

"Get your groove on boy."

Drake walked over and sat next to My on the bench waiting for her to open her eyes and notice him. Hoping she would remember him, feel something for him.

My sat on the bench enjoying the warm sunshine and her pretzel. The sun heated her pale face and lit the inside of her lids a warm red. Suddenly the light was cut off, the red behind her eyes faded to black. Turning her still closed eyes in the direction the object that blocked the light came from she cocked her head and opened her eyes only to find herself staring into a pair of silver eyes.

"Drake?" Her voice was quiet, astonished to see him, "Are you real? Sitting next to me?" The almost pathetic hope in her voice shook Drake to the core. All he wanted to do was to pull her into his arms and tell her everything was all right. What could have happened to her to make her doubt her own mind? He wanted to find out what happened, and possibly hurt whatever or whoever caused her so much pain. He placed a hand on her cheek and willed her not to flinch as he tried to regain eye contact.

The feeling of his hand on her cheek forced her from the daydream she played in. The dream where he came and rescued her, whisked all of her troubles away. My straightened and focused her attention on the silky hair that covered his head. The silky sheet fell straight to his shoulders, a visible halo marking him as her angel. She smiled at this ridiculous vision, and flashed him the traditional "sorry things are uncomfortable" half smile. When he didn't respond, her mind began to scream warnings at her. She was to close; he seemed to see right in her soul. Don't let anyone in; they will hurt you just like Ron and Harry. The loudest voice screamed "blonde hair," "he has blonde hair, just like Lucius-- beware of the blonde haired men." She shoved them back under her consciousness; she didn't want her twisted mind to destroy her angel. Yet My knew if she didn't leave soon, the voices would return with a vengeance, and another fantasy would be destroyed.

"I-- ah, I have to go Drake. Maybe I'll see you again. I hope so." Her voice was desperately quiet at the last sentence but the small smile on her lips filled her haunted eyes and magnified the beauty she had, but didn't notice.

"If you're out, I'll find you," Drake meant it. He wasn't going to loose her again. They had a purpose together. The heat in his eyes made her shiver, it was love and lust and protection. All of the things that she craved. At the same time underneath all the trauma of last year the old Hermione snapped up her bushy head and glared at the arrogance and superiority in his tone. My tried to silence her, My wanted to bask in the safety of his expression. The old Hermione refused, and exerted the whole force of her personality. His arrogance was familiar, his identity buried deep inside of her mind, familiar but unknown.

My rose from the bench and twisted her heavy hair into a knot on the top of her head. The tank top rode up slightly to give Drake a glimpse of flat smooth skin. Looking down at Drake, My stared at him with all of her old superiority, the superiority that she hid from herself and from the world in the last few months. She reached out her hand and stroked his cheek with her fingertips, nails gently rasping over his jaw line.

"I am out every night. Lets see if you can find me." With that she turned on her heel and replaced the headphones, unconsciously dancing away.

Drake squinted his eyes and watched as she drifted away. In a moment his innocent muggle, so scared and haunted, showed a level of haughtiness that a pureblood witch would be proud to call her own. The only person that even came close to that level was Pansy or even the blasted Granger girl. Dismissing thoughts of Pansy and Granger, Draco's eyes devoured My's form as she walked away. Then a flash of red on her back caught his eye. Looking closer, he realized it was a tattoo, a red phoenix in flight, rising from the ashes. It was familiar, like so many things about My. Some voice deep in his brain screamed at his stupidity. The familiarity was important, the tattoo important. He was missing something very important. He watched her walking eyes full of her presence. He watched as the knot her hair was tied in came undone and tumbled down her back, just as she stepped into a rare sunbeam that the tall buildings allowed to get through. It lit her up, made her glow a warm light, a beam of hope for him.

At that moment Drake's life hit a turning point. He fell in love. Fell in love with an Americanized muggle. He didn't care about the beliefs he had grown-up with, had beaten into him. His father was dead and he was in love. He would have her, he would find her, and she would heal his soul.


	3. Waterfall

The Power of Dance  
  
Chapter 3 Waterfall  
  
(A/N:: Once again not mine.but if JKR wanted to retire early and give me Bill, Charlie, and a mute Draco to play with I wouldn't object.)  
  
My stood in the bathroom in her underwear, blushing sparkling talc over her chest and neck. She picked up a tube of liquid liner, the blue emphasizing the amber of her eyes. She grabbed her hair and twisted it into a knot resting loosely on the top of her head. She stabbed a pair of golden chopsticks through the bun, and waved her wand, fixing the knot firmly in place without having to resort to stiff and sticky muggle hair products. She pulled a few tendrils down and watched as they slowly curled into barrel curls framing her face. After adding a light layer of pale blue to her full lips, she pulled on a pair of vinyl pants that tightly hugged her hips. Then she carefully pulled on a shimmery blue top. The blue fabric looked like a glittering wave, a bikini-cut halter dropping underneath her shoulder blades, a layer of sheer shimmer blue mesh hung from the halter to My's hips. The sheer fabric covered only to tease and as My brush more talc over her flat stomach she knew what she look like. She knew that if the Hermione of only six months ago had seen her now there would be hell to pay with the person that was occupying her body.  
  
My didn't care.  
  
Couldn't care.  
  
She needed the dance.  
  
She needed it more than ever now. Needed it more than food or sleep. She needed the beat, the pulse, and the music. The best spinners went to the best clubs. The best clubs had the most strident dress codes, Armani for guys and classy slut for the girls. She could handle that. My needed to dance, she needed to regain the equilibrium of the last month. Her balance was off, her emotions were too high. The morning meeting with Drake upset her carefully constructed barriers. Something about him screamed familiarity, and yet My had no idea who he was, and she wasn't sure if she really wanted to be sure. Shaking her head, trying to escape the knowing glare of a pair of grey eyes that haunted her mind. My shoved her ID and a wad of cash into the hidden pocket on the inside of her pants. She slipped comfortable but dressy shoes on her feet and left the bathroom, her heart rate increasing, seeing that the sun had well and truly set. The thoughts were worse at night. That was when it happened; it began at sunset with the anger, and continued on into the night with the screams and the pleas for mercy. Then after the begging and the tears there was the silence. The silence was the worst, except for a single cry, a cry that haunted her.  
  
My pressed her temples tightly. Lucius Malfoy's dying cries for his son echoed through her mind. She had to leave before the voices got louder, before they overwhelmed her; she had to escape the silence. She stepped out into the living room and saw Mandy and Court in sweats in front of the TV, a girly romance play out on the screen. She just stared at them, something must be going on, normally they are getting ready to go out by now. Shrugging off the thought as paranoia, she shoved her pass card into the hidden pocket and walked to the front door.  
  
"My," Court called to her back. "We have to talk when you get back." My nodded curtly and looked away she walked out the door.  
  
In the hall she called over her shoulder, "I am going to Waterfall, if I don't come back don't bother to call anyone, I know that you won't care." With that she continued down the hall, not missing Mandy giggle a fake girlish laugh clearly designed to wound and heard her stage whisper. "She is so weird. I can't believe that she had to come and stay with us."  
*** The beat was strong at Waterfall. The blue lights flashed and the music flowed trough her. My stood in the middle of the floor, all on her own, dancing, trying to outdistance the voices that followed her. She writhed and twisted, shifted and moved the perfect compliment to the music. Here, just as at pulse, no one tried to join her. Somehow every man and even some of the women knew that they couldn't match her connection to the music, and trying to feel some of her heat would only destroy the magic she seemed to hold.  
For almost two hours she danced. The thoughts were driven away and all that was left was the music and a vague feeling of incompleteness. She danced, feeling almost cheated. After Pulse something felt off. She as able to drive away the thoughts, but it was an empty victory. She wanted to dance and drown in a pair of silver pools. Her mind sighed as her body danced. She knew that the odds of Drake finding her were slim to none, but still there was a place deep in her heart that wanted him to find her.  
The song shifted smoothly to the next set. A heavy bass based rap mix reverberated through her body and helped to bury the old memories and new strange desires deeper in her psyche. Alone on the floor My shifted and moved, dancing with her body pressed against an invisible partner. She rolled and thrusted, rotated her hips, an unconscious cry for a partner. The heavy sex-driven music continued through the night, leaving My to dance out her frustrations alone.  
  
Suddenly she felt warmth spread along her back, large, strong hands gripped her hips and my shifted her rhythm in order for their bodies to move together. She reached up behind her and wove her fingers through loose stands of soft hair. She danced against his warmth, pushing back against him, the warmth of his hips cradling her butt, their legs intertwined. In time with the beat of the song, My dropped to the floor in a full body roll and turned, eyes closed against the face of her partner. Straddling his leg she pulled her body close to his, Once again moving together alone with the music.  
As the set shifted again My disentangled herself from her partners body. She knew who he was. She could feel it in their dance, in the way their bodies moved together. My felt his arms tighten around her waist, pulling her close, forcing her to stop the dance. A warm burst of breathe caressed her ear and a low voice tickled it.  
  
"I told you that I would find you." She looked up into his grey eyes and smiled The emptiness in her eyes took on a hint of bitter happiness.  
  
"That is what you said; I just didn't think that you could." Drake took her chin in his hand and stared into golden eyes. Mind prickling, familiar golden eyes.  
  
"Always My. Always." He decreased his grip on her waist a little and began to move with the music. He wrapped her body in a competitive dance, an attempt to see who would dominate.  
  
My let all of her thoughts drop away as Drake began the dance. She ignored the familiar twinge in the pit of her stomach at the well-known conceit and allowed the dance to swallow her. Allowed the sensual combat between their bodies. As Drake and My danced, they returned to that place where all they felt was the music and the feeling of long forgotten completeness, as their hearts throbbed together in time. Where the crowds faded to ghosts and the music was all powerful, all consuming. In the grasp of the music, they stopped being Drake and My, Granger and Malfoy. They had become a single body, journey, destination and soul.  
  
The space around the dancers cleared, the aura of completeness that surrounded the couple was too strong. To other patrons they were two flames, a light and dark flame, entwined together moving with the beat. Jealous eyes ate the couple alive, the singles searching for a mate, or hook-up buddy, envied the fact they found each other. Couples, jealous of the completeness of Drake and My, wished to steal just a fraction of it, and infuse it into their own relationship. In a dark corner, two pairs of eyes watched the dancers. One watched with concern, the other with careful consideration and a glimmer of hope. Watching the dancers for a moment more, the two strangely dressed older people left the club.  
  
***  
  
Standing on the street corner, passersby didn't even notice the man with waist length bread, and a stiff uptight woman wearing robes.  
  
"Oh Albus," the woman began, concern evident on her face. "I can't, WE can't leave her here, she has been through so much, been to hell and back. She should be at Hogwarts. Safe. In a place where we can find a way to stop the process." The man shook his head in sadness.  
  
"No Minerva, the course must be maintained. The wizard world knows what she is. They have made her more famous than Mr. Potter. The only thing that might save her has already found her. They just don't know it yet. You could see the aura."  
  
"But him, their past, it--"  
  
"No, it will take place. Maybe for the first time a phoenix will find its soul mate and truly rise from the ashes." He looked back in to the club as if to see the two young people dancing together trying to burn away the shadows. "I love her too. I cannot bear the idea she will be gone, that she will not become the Minister of Magic or the next headmistress. I also know him. He wants her, and what he wants he gets and keeps, forever."  
  
Minerva muttered unhappily, "That's what I am afraid of." The man's blue eyes twinkled.  
  
"Let's return, remind me to send them a letter about school. Oh, and to inform Misters Potter and Weasly of Hermione's well being. I know they have been frantic." Minerva sighed deeply, throwing a final agonized glance at her favorite student before apperating away with her long time friend and boss.  
  
***  
  
Drake and My danced away their troubles until the music cut off. Until the bar called last call and the floors emptied.  
My turned to leave the lack of the bass pushed at her balance that she had danced all night to obtain. Once again a warm hand encircled her wrist.  
  
"Do you have to leave?" Drake's eyes were shuttered, hiding the emotions that plagued him.  
My smiled up into his face. A real smile, a smile that lit her up in side, and warmed the emptiness that had consumed her since the spring. She placed a hand on his cheek, and pushed a sweaty lock of platinum hair away from his eyes. Without consciously knowing what she was doing, My placed her hand on his cheek. Rising up onto her toes she pressed her lips to his, amazed by their softness and the strength that lay dormant below the surface. Forcing her self to break away, she wrenched her arm from his grasp. To soften her actions, she smiled again, lost herself in his eyes.  
  
"I am out every night. Find me."  
  
She turned and began to walk away, while her order reverberated through his brain. Somehow her knew that he would. He would find this mystery woman, this mystery woman that controlled his mind, actions and feelings. This woman that he loved.  
  
As she walked out of the club and went to hail a cab Draco watched, puzzling out the thoughts that had taken over his brain. Did he really love a muggle? A muggle he met three times and spoke to once? Was it possible for a Malfy to fall in love with a "filthy muggle," to pollute the family bloodline? The family purity? Drake looked down at his pale hand, and could see the faint blue tinge of vein. Would a Malfoy bring a Muggle into the bloodline? Looking at the empty doorway, still able to feel her body against his hips, remembering the way her wanted to possess and protect her, Drake knew the answer was yes. He knew the answer was yes to all of the questions. He loved her, he wanted her, and he WOULD have her. He would bring her to the wizard world as his wife. A Malfoy got only the best. My was the best.  
  
***  
  
My returned to the apartment, after getting out and paying the cabbie, she stared up at the forbidding building. Her thoughts were busy, the mind numbing calm that she normally obtained was nowhere to be seen. For the first time in months however, she didn't mind thinking. Because, for the first time she wasn't thinking about that night, or about what she was, or about her fate. Instead,  
  
She was consumed by a pair of silver eyes.  
  
A pair of soft lips.  
  
A strong body that fitted and challenged her.  
  
A feeling that she found her match in a platinum haired, gray eyed man with intelligence burning in his expression. A man that could find her anywhere, make her feel safe. A man that she could rely on, a man she could love.  
  
Did love.  
  
With her mind wrapped around trying to workout her feelings for Drake, she didn't notice the man drunkenly creeping up behind her. A man that followed her cab from the club. A man that wanted to feel the completeness that she had with another. He wanted to feel her, all of her inside and out. He rushed forward and grabbed her, pulling her into the ally, the doorman never even seeing her. The man pressed her against the wall and pressed himself to her, his bulky muscles just served to remind her of Drake.  
  
"Oh you like that you little cocktease. You flirt. You bitch. I knew you would like it rough. You dirty whore. You deserve this." As she spoke his hands roamed around her body. My felt sick, his torments were so close to the ones that Luscius sent at her as he raised his wand. All she wanted to do was to disappear. Then she felt a long sticky trail against her face. He licked her, she could feel his hand creeping up her stomach to her chest, grapping and squeezing her breast like she was a cow to be milked. When his hand left her breast to stroke her hair and face My's revulsion left, and all that she felt was anger. Pure clean fury.  
  
"Get off of me you sick fuck." My's voice cracked with the flames of her anger. A burning blaze that wanted nothing more than to burn the offender to ash. She put her hand against his chest and pushed, expelling all of her disgust, rage, and fear in one blow.  
  
The man flew.  
  
His feet lifted off the ground and he flew across the alleyway to the ground landing between the huge oil drums used as trashcans. She looked down at him with contempt. The pathetic man in front of My moaned. On his chest, a small handprint was burned into his flesh, her hand forever seared into his body. The tee-shirt let off tendrils of smoke around where her hand had burned through. She glared at the cowering man in front of her, who was gibbering in fear and pain at the girl standing in front of him.  
  
"Never touch me. Never touch any unwilling person ever." She spoke with a backup of flames, a choir of demons echoing her words. "In fact if I ever see you in any club, anywhere near me, I will find you, and I WILL kill you. You would not be my first." She turned and walked away from the weeping man. Unknown to her, as My walked away, the oil drums burst into flame. An inferno designed to trap and tangle. Ensnaring the man in the ally, hopefully forever.  
  
My walked from the ally, around the corner, and into the building, her balance broken, her emotions on edge and all the barriers that she used to keep her sane were broken. She walked past the front desk and up to the stairs; silent unknown tears fell down her face in a stream. She went up the flights and entered into the apartment in time to see the last star twinkle and fade from sight as the sun first started to rise.  
  
My felt her body quake; it was too much. She needed to sleep, to heal, to dance, and to rebuild the walls it had taken her all summer to build. The scene with the man in the ally was to close, the blazing rage, the insults, and finally the fire. It was almost a repeat of that night, if he had actually hurt her, or tried to attack Drake, or a friend, My knew he would have died. He would have been put to flames like everyone else in the cavern that night. As her thoughts compared the awful nights, My's body had enough. Her stomach rebelled and emptied its contents into the sink in the kitchen. Her nerves became woolly, and the tears she didn't even notice soaked through her light top. She walked towards her closet and yanked off the provocative clothes. Grabbing a random set, Hermione dressed herself shakily in a huge pair of flannel pajamas. Reaching farther back, to the trunk where here magical items were kept, My retrieved a vial of heavy black liquid. She straightened and headed towards the cot, contemplating her last vial of Dreamless Sleep potion. The last of a gift freely given by Snape.  
  
Despite the rank odor and foul taste, My downed the potion in one shot, flinging the contents back like a practiced tequila shooter. As darkness tinged the edges of her vision, My lay down to read a brief note in Courtney's neat handwriting.  
  
My---  
I am getting married.  
We are going to live in this apartment.  
Mandy, Eric, and I want you out by the first of September.  
Court My closed her eyes, the letter fluttered down to the carpet. Her last thought filled with broken half wishes and unpleasant revelations.  
  
I guess I have to return to Hogwarts now. 


	4. August

Chapter 4

August

_(A/N:: Once again not mine…not a single damn thing…)_

            She was safe.  Cocooned in a deep well of ebon-colored cotton, protecting her, warming her, keeping the dreams away.  She liked it there.  Little by little however, her refuge was getting torn down.  First bright light flooded the room, biting at the darkness.  Then voices echoed through her head, not the voices of agony that usually yelled at her, but a female voice, smug and unconcerned about volume.  Somehow My managed to stay deep within the darkness, safe in the cotton of sleep.  The safety didn't last long after that, soon she was forcefully expelled from her slumber by a scream right to her ear and a sharp kick to the cot she slept on.

"My you lazy idiot.  GET UP!!"  Mandy's haughty voice sliced through the comfortable sleep and pulled Hermione entirely into the waking world.  Sitting up she saw Mandy standing in front of her with a letter and an evil expression.  Behind her the VCR clock displayed the unholy hour of 12:07 PM.  She had gotten four hours of sleep from a potion designed to create sixteen hours of perfect dreamless sleep.  "You got mail.  I just hope one of them is about your share in Aunt Elizabeth and Uncle Ryan's will.  Otherwise where would you ever live after we kick you out at the end of August?"  Mandy seemed in the mood to maim and wound.  For better or worse however, there was nothing Mandy could say that would hurt My's soul.  It was already broken.

            Mandy threw down the letter and flounced off to her room, to pass idle gossip or to sneak a few drinks.  My didn't care.  She picked up the letter and didn't recognize the sender, it had come through muggle mail, and it didn't look like junk mail.  She had no idea who it might have been from.  Biting her lip she considered the name of the sender, and the address.  She thought, despite her wish to forget about magic, Hogwarts and school, she loved and craved a challenge.  She left school three days after the events in the cavern; three days that she spent in a forced dreamless slumber.  A full month before school officially ended, and as she ran from the school in the dead of night, she didn't get the usual comprehensive assignments that her brain was used to getting.  One part of her brain missed the academic rigor, while the other part knew that she would not have been able to handle the assignments anyway.  All her mind could handle was the dance and the music.  Now she was stronger, her barriers were; while no longer as strong after Waterfall, thick enough to protect her from the dangers that came with opening that part of Hermione Granger, the analytical, logical and driven girl that wouldn't stop for anything.  

            She concentrated on the sender, and thought, allowing the sealed lid over her school memories and analytical thinking skills.  Then it hit her and with shaking hands she tore the envelope open exactly along the seams, making sure not to rip what she now knew was in it.  Two heavy pieces of parchment fell from her nerveless fingers.  Carefully she examined the first one, and felt her breathe hitch as McGonagoll's tidy handwriting filled the page.

_Ms. Granger:_

_            Forgive me of the subterfuge; I didn't think it wise to allow the owl-post ready access to your current dwelling.  Albus and I didn't want any unknown parties to discover your whereabouts before you are ready to return to us.  No matter.  However, there is an important decision that as your head of house I must inform you of.  _

_            In light of your current situation, you have been rejected for the post of Head Girl of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  Although I have been grooming you for the position personally since you demonstrated such potential throughout your years at this school.  The choice of student heads has to be approved by the council of governors and it was not.  After your application was rejected and another candidate was put forward and accepted immediately, Albus and I found that Fudge bribed and courted the governors to reject you.  The miserable bastard._

My stopped reading in astonishment.  Her favorite professor called the Minister of Magic a bastard.  The letter was open and less formal than anything the professor had ever shown her.  It was a letter written to an equal, not a student.  And to call the headmaster Albus?  My felt her headache grow worse.  She continued reading.

_-- Beyond school politics, enclosed with my letter is a letter from the headmaster one to you and a missive to your odious cousins.  This should have been your Hogwarts letter, however, sending it would be pointless.  We have already contacted a third party to purchase you necessary books and supplies.  With that I look forward to seeing you on September 1st.  I hope that this final year proves to be a good one for you, perhaps even good enough to banish the shadow that you have carried for so long.  I trust you and I will speak again so with that I'll see you in a month._

_Your Truly,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Transfiguration Professor and Head of Gryffindor House._

My set the letter down and tried to process the information.  Not Head Girl.   Somehow that didn't bother her as much as she though it would.  The Hermione that desperately wanted the post was gone, faded under a reign of fire, vanished under layers of solitude and loud music.

            My reread the letter again.   Someone was going to purchase her school belongings?  Why couldn't she do it?  They were forcing her to return, she couldn't even have the pleasure of buying her own supplies?  She felt a wave of irritation at the Headmaster's heavy hand in her life, and then images rose from her mind and slapped her across the face.  Hard.

Long flowing cloaks

Laughter

Smells

People

She knew Dumbledore was right; she wasn't ready to face Diagon Alley.  Muggle New York was all she could handle, all that she wanted.  Now slightly curious, My reached down and grabbed the other parchment that was in the envelope.

            With shaking hands she opened another envelope, this time a muggle/wizard hybrid.  Taking a deep breath she read the note to her cousins.  A polite missive thanks the girls for their hospitality and kindness towards a family member in time of need.  A note that was obviously meant to inspire guilt in an average human being.  Her cousins, shallow and self absorbed, wouldn't even hear the reproach in the letter over the cries of delight they would make after seeing the check made to Courtney Prichard and Family, to the lump sum of six thousand dollars.   Dumbledore was obviously trying to make her last month as easy as possible.  Wherever he got that much muggle money, My would never know.  Dropping the note on the living room table she settled on the couch to read the final letter that would destroy the peace she created this summer.  After closing her eyes and counting to ten My opened her eyes and tidy script filled her eyes.

_Ms Granger,_

_            I fear that your time of solitude and healing has come to an end.  Once again Hogwarts opens in another month and you must return.  While you could have taken and gotten honors on your NEWTs at the end of last year, the ministry is requiring that you complete your education.  _

_I know that you must have many questions about this summer and about the events of last spring, I just hope that I am able to provide you with the answers that you desire.  I hope that my knowledge will stand up under the challenge of your rigorous intellect.  _

_The galleon enclosed here is in fact a port key that will transport you directly to the quidditch pitch on September 1st.  From there your stuff will be taken to your room, and you can be escorted to my office, or you can simply find your way there.  _

_Until we have had a chance to talk I wish you to continue your self-imposed solitude.  After questions are answered we must discuss your control and what to do about practical lessons._

_Once more I digress, at 11:00 am on the first, the port key will glow red.  Place you hand on it and the other on your belongings and you will return to your home._

_Albus_

My looked at the letter with confusion and anger warring for priority.  Who did Dumbledore think he was?  She had been alone for seven months.  No parents, no guardians, no friends, no one to order her around.  Yes, before she had to deal with teachers, but they trusted her.  Trusted the perfect prefect to do as she pleased.  After that night, well after that night she disappeared.  This edict from the Headmaster was more than a mere summons.  It was personal, almost paternal, and to be signed with his given name?  Her mind swirled uncomfortably, trying to solve the enigma that was her headmaster.  Finally the struggle got to close to the barriers she placed over that night, it was a little too much.  Tossing the port key into the back of the closet, My stalked off towards the bathroom, the hot and steamy water would distract her mind.

            Once safely in the bathroom, she touched the knob and smiled as the bubbles cleaned and the relaxing scent of rosemary peppermint filled the air.  Dropping her rumpled cloths to the floor, she grabbed a bottle of bubble bath and headed over to the whirlpool tub.  Filling the tub with scalding water, she leaned back as the biting water relaxed screaming muscles, and the aromatic scent soothed her overwrought mind.  Leaning back, absorbing the heat, My dreamed of happy days of clear blue and emerald eyes, while always in the background, a pair of silver ones warding away the sadness and the misery that the blue and green couldn't comprehend.  

            My woke to cool water and irritable cries and loud pounding on the door.

"My?  What the hell are you doing?  Its 4:30 and there are three other people that need this bathroom."  Courtney's shout through the door woke My up fully.  Leaving her awake enough to notice the cold and filmy water and waterlogged skin.  It was soft and moisturized, despite the length in the water, My still felt disgusting.  Bloated and pale, a lizard queen coming to claim her throne.  

            My stood on shaky legs, the bath and sleep had helped to rebuild the barriers that were destroyed last night, but she felt fragile.  Wrapping a warm towel around her slight frame My drained the water and watched as it swirled down the drain into oblivion.  She unconsciously sneered as the water flowed away, her life, following in the footsteps of dirty bathwater.  Pulling on her clothes, My threw open the bathroom dor to reveal Mandy licking a trail down the neck of Court's fiancé as he fondled her breast.  It sickened her to live near her repulsive cousin; so like Pansy from school, and this new man that appeared to have moved in, and had no discernable taste.  Human were disgusting, driven by hormones and pheromones.  Love was unmentionable, a forgotten dream, when easy lust was an easier substitute.

            Feeling unbalanced and lonely, this was the first time she had separated herself from human kind, now it was only a matter of time before it happened.  My felt a twinge in the back of her mind as she began to go through the familiar routine of going out.  For once however, there was something on her mind that could force the voices away.  Twin beams of silver light kept away the darkness.  She longed to go out.  For once however, it wasn't to let the music drown out the screams, or to force memory loss.  In stead she was consumed with the thought of seeing him, an old school English gentleman that could equal her dance ability.  She missed the feeling of his arms around her, the wonderful feeling of emptiness being filled.  Somehow after a few meetings, she missed him.  Somehow Hermione Granger the most promising witch in fifty years had fallen head over heels for a pale-skinned blonde man whose arrogance was uncomfortable in its familiarity, while the way he made her feel inside made her melt.  Although she knew it was strange, she barely knew him and in a month she was leaving, but nonetheless she loved the dancing haughty prick.  Deep inside buried under Gryffindor training and a muggle heritage, a Slytherin side, a Malfoy side whispered_ you love him even though he is a muggle. _

            As she thought, her body operated on auto-pilot.  The acts of getting ready to dance were second nature by now.  The perfect pair of pants, the right shirt and a comfortable and sexy pair of shoes all found their way to her body.  The makeup adorned her skin in a practiced fashion and her hair seemed to know that it was in its own interest to simply fall flat down her back in a straight sheet.  Despite the ease in which her ritual took place, it still took hours.  It seemed that she became one of those girls that take hours to go out, one of the girls she swore she would never be.  Its funny how war and misery could so totally change a person, but Hermione was living proof that war did unexpected things.  It wasn't just pure vanity however, that kept her for so long.  Every few moments a cousin would drop in to the bathroom and talk in excruciating detail about how wonderful the new boyfriend was, and the girls, as self absorbed as they were demanded complete and total concentration and devotion to what they were busy spewing.  Finally they left her alone, and she was able to finish getting ready so that she could leave.

            Walking out of the apartment, My looked at the three people sprawled on the couch with thinly disguised disgust.  As she pulled the door shut she spoke softly to the people that gave her shelter,

"My headmaster sent you a message this morning, along with a check.  I'll be back later."

Entering the stairwell she could smell the unsavory odor of stale sweat, urine, vomit, and oddly enough raw rotten fish.  Gagging, My considered apperating down and away for the offending smell, but she knew she couldn't.  Knew that the concentration required not to splinch wasn't available to her.  She expended most of her energy on keeping her barriers up in the silence of the stairwell.  Sixteen floor later, My escaped from the smell heading out into the lobby.  Looking around, My muttered a vanity spell to her self, instantly any lingering scent was eliminated leaving the whispers of sandalwood and myrrh.  Stepping out in front of her building, My hailed a cab and directed towards Bacchus, the time for dancing had come.

***

            Bacchus was full to capacity.  The music loud and trippy, an audio acid dream of swirls, colors and wonders.  The new imported Euro-techno blared from every corner of the club.  The were all kinds tonight, hard core ravers, trying to find a new style, the people just looking for a good time, and the preppy patron, so desperate to be cool, dancing awkwardly to the unfamiliar music.  

My didn't notice.  

Didn't notice or care about the other people, the looks that she was getting.  She was with him.  Dancing with Drake, the world had fled from them, and they lived together in the music.  Thirty minutes after she had arrived at Bacchus she felt an arm slip around her waist and a whispered "Always" in her neck.  And the dance continued, only it was better, together, complete.

***

So it continued.  Every night My woke up in time to go out and meet Drake.  Sometimes she would go by her self, sometimes Mandy or Court would come.  Mostly it was just her, until he came, and then it was them, and they danced and danced.  Each night they met, danced, and in their own damaged way, loved.  Each night My passed out with exhaustion, only to wake-up with an ache in her heart where he belonged and the giddy thrill knowing that she was going out to see him, to dance away the horrors of the world.  It wasn't always perfect.  Sometimes things were to distracting to disappear into the music.  Sometimes the squeals of other dancers would spook her.  The clubs that had red décor, or sported flames were avoided like they were death incarnate, and to My they were.  But despite the problems, My was out every night dancing, and Drake was by her side.

            August passed quickly.  The dances were the best part of it, they helped her to cope, and they brought her Drake.

Drake.

Drake, the man the Hermione was growing to love even more every day.  Without him she was empty, a shell.  Near him, she felt like fighting against the voices, felt like she might just deserve a chance at being happy.  Now she would have to leave.  Leave her place of exile, where she may have found happiness.  Go back to the place that caused her exile, knowing that they would never let her leave again.  She was an enigma, something strange.  

Becoming something different.

***

            They were together.  Their hearts beating along with the bass of the set that just ended.  It was August 31.  They were at Pulse dancing together in the club that joined them in the first place.  Knowing what happened tomorrow, and knowing she had to tell him left her weak.  Drake had become her strength.  Without him she didn't know if she could survive. Didn't know what was going to happen when she had to leave him.  If she even could leave him.  As the next song came on, thoughts ran through her head.  Memories of this last month and the feelings that he evoked in her that she didn't know she even possessed, what was she supposed to do without dance?  Without him?

            Drake knew something was different.  She was off.  Her mind seemed to be lost in a personal world, a world that didn't look happy.    It was something he had never seen before.  He had come to know her in the last month, he knew her body and her rhythm, and sometimes he knew what she was going to do before she did it.  He was used to her being totally focused.  As though the music was everything, the dance was everything.  Tonight however, it was as if she was far away, trapped inside her mind, where not even the music couldn't reach her.  

"My?" He called, trying to be heard over the music, breaking the code of silence they silently established in the beginning.  Dancing was sacred, and they did it silently, separate but so very together.  His voice, low and warm, broke through her thoughts.  She looked up at his serious expression and willed her body to stop moving.  Taking her hand he lead her off the floor and possessively escorted her to a table in the corner.  "My are you alright?"  The worry he felt banished the control he held on his accent, the Americanisms he picked up over the summer dropped away.  "I feel like you aren't here with me."  Drake internally winced at how he sounded.  A petulant boy whinging about a broken toy.  He wanted all of her, her here with him.  If she gave him the slightest encouragement he would ignore the summons to Platform 9 3/4 and his final year of school.  He would give up magic and his father's empire for this wounded woman that fitted him so well.

            My's eyes filled with tears at his concern.  He looked like a lost little boy.  Lost without her.  No one had ever needed her before.  Well, no one that ever bothered to learn about her in return.  But Drake did, Drake even knew when she wasn't fully concentrating on the music.  And she wasn't.  Tomorrow at eleven she returned to Hogwarts; to England, to the one man that might be able to keep her human, to the place she spent the last three months trying to forget.

"Drake."  Her voice was soft as she reached up and ran her fingers through his fine hair.  "I return to school tomorrow.  In England."  The haunted memories England held for her reflected in her pupils.  The horror there was so blatant, Draco sharply inhaled.  Such horrors for a person so young.  Not even he, the only child of Lucius Malfoy had seen horrors like the memories that reflected so deeply in her eyes.  Rage like nothing her ever felt before spread through his body.  He hated her school, hated all who knew her and didn't protect her.  Hated what ever haunted her, what tore through her sanity, nipped at her heels in the dark.

"What?"  _He sounded so confused.  He doesn't know anything about me._ My thought to her self,_ He sounds as though he would be lost without.  But he doesn't even know me.  He doesn't even comprehend what I have done, what will I become._

"I have to return to school tomorrow.  I am leaving the states."  Drake placed his hand on her cheek and looked into her amber eyes, almost willing her to stay.

"Will I ever see you again?"  My shook her head sadly.

"I don't know Drake.  I don't know."

            Drake breathed deeply.  All of his father's business affairs were in order.  He had to return to England himself, to catch the train.  His house elves had already purchased his belongings, and had them shipped to the school.  Moving his hand from her cheek, he took her ting hand in his larger one.  Leading her agin, he walked back towards the dance floor.

"We still have tonight."

            The two people danced.  Everything slowed, and the crowd faded away once more.  This was their last dance, last chance to form one being, to totally meld into one spirit.  Their bodies fused and moved, one vessel of love, protection and hurt, struggling to stay above the line of despair.  The couple danced as beautifully as ever, still hearing only the music, feeling only each other.  A dark cloud hung over them though.  The club regulars that were lucky enough to have seen them before felt and saw the difference.  The dance was desperate, it was goodbye.  It was an eternal expression of star-crossed lovers.  They just kept dancing out their private heartbreak until last call occurred and the music ended.  For the watchers, it didn't feel resolved, it felt hollow, a hiatus before the true climax.

            My turned and looked up into Drake's silver eyes and tried to force him into seeing how much this month, and how much he meant to her.  She hadn't been this sane since May, and she owed it all to him.

            Drake memorized her face, each line and freckle, the way her lashes fluttered, and the pinkness of parted lips.  He knew that he loved her.  Knew that he took her from the path of a death eater.  How could a Malfoy love a muggle?  To him it didn't matter.  For her, and because of her dance, he had become a better person.   Drake felt a loss knowing that she would never know.  She would never see the impact that she had on his life.  How much he loved her.

            As though hypnotized, they drew closer.  A gentle hand down a cheek, a thumb along the jaw line.  My looked up and stood up on her toes, pulling his head closer she kissed him softly.  Gently.  Lips caressed lips, the beating of her heart, its own music.  Just as he began to respond, she broke free and ran.  A moment longer and wouldn't have left at all.  So she ran, not even feeling sparkling salty diamonds trailing down her cheeks.  Drake watched her go.  Fingers touching his burning lips.  He could taste the sweetness of her lipgloss.  He watched her leave, and a tear fell down his cheek unnoticed.  The fates were silent as Draco Malfoy watched his only hope run away.  Run out of his life.

Forever.

_AN::: Here is the fourth chapter, I hope that it lives up to the expectations that so many of you have kindly informed me of.  Getting your reviews was a wonderful experience that only added to writing process.  I must admit I had no idea how people would respond to this story, and I am glad that the people that read it and enjoyed it.  I hope they will continue to do so.  _

_Thank You Reviewers._

_Cat_


	5. Return

Chapter 5

The Return

_(A/N:: I am short, artificial redhead that is very single and very childless…in fact I in no way resemble JKR…so of course nothing is even remotely mine)_

            Harry stood on the platform and searched for a familiar face he knew wasn't going appear.  All around him familiar sights warmed him after the most hellish summer with the Dursley's he had ever experienced in his whole life.  The sights of little kids not yet old enough to attend school running around getting underfoot, baby siblings throwing tantrums, upset at their favorite brother or sister heading off to school.  Parents sternly instructing offspring about proper decorum and behavior, all the while hugging so tightly the child in question was turning purple.  All these sights were normal and comforting and warmed him after the abuse of the summer, but something was different.  Harry sighed and shook his head as the crowd milled around.  

Everything was different.  

Without her, something was missing from the scene in front of him.

Ginny and Ron were waiting for him on the train, waiting to see if he would see her.  See familiar brown eyes, frizzy curly hair and a tiny almost too tiny frame.  It was amazing at the ache he felt watching the crowd.  Knowing that she wasn't going to burst through a group of people and hug him tightly, peck him on the cheek and demand to know if he finished his homework.  It hurt even though he knew she wasn't going to come.  And he knew she wasn't going to.  Dumbledore had owled and warned him.  She was still so fragile he had written, he wanted to keep her exposure to people, even her friends, at a minimum until she was stronger.  If she was ready, he might get to see her once classes began.

            Harry shut his eyes as flames filled his vision.  He remembered the confrontation, the sight of Ron's broken and bleeding body lying on the ground.  How rapid, labored breathing and the sight of blood and dirt mixing at his feet spurned him unprepared into the final battle.  But she saved them.  He could still vaguely feel the flames lapping warmly at him skin, Voldemort's final scream cut short by his own shout of _"Avada Kedvarda,"_ the pleas of mercy from those who never gave it.  When the flames died down, there were three left.  Ron, better off than before, the fire burned the blood from his lungs, and melted the blade that had pierced the thick walls of his heart.  Harry was fine, bruised and scratched but ultimately happy the war was over.  Voldemort was dead.  His happiness was short lived.  

Because after levitating Ron; he saw her. 

Smoke rising from her robes, hair flame kissed and different, curled in the fetal position, whimpering softly as the Death Eater's bodies crumpled into ash and smoke all around her.

            He owed her everything, a girl that risked everything for two selfish boys that distanced themselves from her when he eating disorder surfaced, when her parents died, when they got girlfriends.  Despite all that she came, and sacrificed her innocence to save two friends that didn't deserve her.  The sight of her tear stained face vividly appeared in his mind, her empty haunted eyes and how the tears didn't stop, how she didn't notice as he picked her up and carried her away from her own private hell.

            He remembered sitting by her bedside for three days while Pomfrey kept her asleep with potions and charms, as various people filtered into and out of the hospital wing to stare at the girl they once called friend or _damn know-it-all_.  Then he remembered the ache and fear he felt when she left.  Left in the middle of the night without a single word.  Not even Dumbledore had known her whereabouts until the morning.  Harry remembered his anger at the school and at the faculty for not keeping a better eye on her, and most of all fury at Dumbledore for the sudden and troubling disappearance of his usual omniscience.  He remembered his angry words thrown at the one father figure he had left.

"How could you?"  The Headmaster's eyes were dull and tired, the sparkle gone as he worried about the girl as well.  "First my Mum and Dad, then Sirius, now my sister.  **MY SISTER? **You let them die and leave me, and now you let her leave as well?  She needs me, her brother."  Harry remembered the burning in his eyes, and the tightness of his throat as he finally acknowledged the familial bond he felt towards her for so many years.  As he acknowledged why she had him wrapped around her little finger for so long.  Remembered the pain in his heart as he cried for the loss of his sister.

            A high-pitched wail echoed through the platform…the conductor calling out last call to the passengers.  And still she hadn't come.  She was going to miss their last train ride to Hogwart's the final ride to their home of seven years.  He would-- they would have ride with out her, the golden trio had been broken by an act of love, and nothing would be the same.  Even when they were reunited, and Hermione was by their side once again, nothing would ever be the same again.

*~*~*

            Draco sat in a compartment and tried to will his housemates into oblivion.  He was tired, heartsore and dreadfully alone.  For a month he had been happy, a true happiness he hadn't felt since early childhood, happy in a world that didn't belong to him.  Now, back in the world he used to think he ruled Draco was miserable.  A cold and aching misery that grew as the train pulled out of London and raced through the English countryside, a misery that carved away a piece of his soul that belong solely to her.

Her.

As much as he hoped that her would see her again he knew that he wouldn't.  While they were both in the same country, he would never find her.  He didn't even know her real name.  Besides how many Prep schools allowed their students to go clubbing every night?  Even if he found a way to the London club scene My wouldn't be able to.  They were separated by circumstances and he didn't know how to resolve them.  Not thinking about his company Drake curled his hand into a fist and shouted, "Fuck," slamming the tense fist into the train wall.  Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle and a myriad of other Slytherins looked on in horror at their Slytherin Prince.

            Gone was the spoiled brat of the spring.  Malfoy had returned for his final school year as a man.  He was stronger mentally and physically, had a quiet reserve of strength and will that he never possessed before.  The cold grey eyes of the Malfoy family were no long dark with rage and spite, or blank with contempt.  They were so much worse now.  Draco was broken.  A piece of his heart and soul had been ripped away and his eyes told the world he knew he would never get it back.

            Drake looked at the startled faces all around him, waiting for him to tell them what to do, to say, to think,_ to feel_.  Unconsciously he flexed his fist, felt the bones shift and slid readjusting after nearly breaking them on the wall.  Standing up looking around at frightened, fawning faces he left compartment, robes flowing out behind him.  Unbuttoned, his robes revealed a sight no student thought possible.  Under the heavy black wool, Draco Malfoy pureblood extraordinaire, wore muggle khakis and a green button up dress shirt, looking very much like a young CEO striding towards the boardroom.   As he strode past, the other members of the Slytherin house watched in amazement as their leader, most likely to become the next dark lord, walked down the train wearing muggle cloths and allowing some type of muggle machine to rest on his head and cover his ears.

            Drake felt his muscles relax after escaping the simpering and the stupidity.  He felt nothing towards the vicious girl he once thought he would marry, or the thickheaded idiots he called friends.  He allowed the music to flow into his ears and take over his mind.  His body began to respond to the heavy bass and electronica, he allowed his head to move along with the throbbing beat that echoed deep in his ears.  The music helped.  He bought the Discman after seeing My in the streets early in august.  Though he would never admit it to anyone else, the muggle music machine intrigued him in a way no other muggle thing did.  Well except for My.  It took three days to find a purchase, a week to understand, and then his triumph, almost the rest of the month to figure out how exactly to make the machine run off of magic.  He didn't mind, it was worth the frustration and the strange looks to be able to carry around a piece of My with him everywhere.  He paced along the aisle, head moving in time with the music, lips moving along with incomprehensible lyrics.

            The incredulous stares of the muggleborn students amused him.  They thought they held the corner on all things muggle, only to have their enemy, the Slytherin Prince to wander up and down the train lost in his own world, in muggle cloths, somehow using muggle machines and singing along to muggle music?  He could practically hear their thoughts, _Has the wizard world gone totally bloody mad?_ He was proud he kept down the smirk and the scorn; all he wanted for the year was peace.  A year of freedom before he had to retire to the world of business deals and dirty politics was all that he asked.  Somehow, he knew that that was what My would have wanted for him.    

            Walking along the corridor, he lowered the volume of the trip hop beat, listening to the loud laughs and shouts of student hyped up on sugar and excitement.  They were all so carefree.  The last year of battles and deaths hadn't affected them at.  The death of the Dark Lord, and every single loyal Death Eater was forgotten when the Weird Sisters released a new album.  The death of his father and the disappearance of his killer didn't matter to the vapid and brainless gits that surrounded him.  

            There was no one at the school that could match his intellect, except Hermione Granger.  The only person in the school that dared to cross his father and hit him, the only person that might be able to provide him his intellectual conversation.  The one person he was forbidden to speak with, forever.  The idea of him befriending the _mudblood_ for conversation was laughable; his father would have beaten him to near death, and then tortured his with the favored curse of the weak, Cructacius.  The only heir of the Malfoy name and dark heritage could never sully himself with getting to know the only match for him at the school.  Draco sighed, too much had happened between them for a friendship to ever occur.  He thought to himself, he honestly didn't want one.  He might not think less of her for the background, but the fawning looks she gave to Potter and Weasly was sickening, how she was willing to demean herself for those idiots was repulsive.    He disliked her now for other reasons than in the early school days.  He now hated her because she never got to be all that she could be, hated her for allowing herself to adopt the subordinate position in an empty friendship.  

Friendship.  Lucius Malfoy had drilled into Draco's brain the worthlessness of friends for many years.  Long vicious diatribes renouncing all emotional contact and all human relations.  The only thing that mattered to Lucius was power and hate.

Now his father was dead. Now Drake wished the encounters he had with Hermione had been less volatile, if he attempted to approach her now he would be possibly hexed to death by the idiot boy wonder and sidekick, or burned to a crisp in a wave of flames by Hermione herself.  

Just like his father.

His father.  The man that Draco had wanted to be like for the first fifteen years of his life, despite beatings and abuse.  The man that sold his soul to kiss the dirty ass of a worthless half living serpent.  The man that lost his life to a sixteen-year-old girl.  That is if the rumors were true.  Draco felt self-loathing grow in him as his thoughts turned to the girl that murdered his father and the parents of the majority of his housemates.  The girl that toppled his life at the same time she helped him to find the only thing that ever really mattered to him.  How could he respect and deep in his heart thank the person the killed his father?  He didn't know, but if the rumors were true, and Hermione Granger was figure in the rumors then he owed her his bruise free life, and he owed the My, if she hadn't killed Lucius then Drake never would have been conceived, and he never would have gone to New York, he never would have met My.  Somehow he knew that even though he should be plotting to destroy the girl all he wanted to do was ignore her, she had destroyed one life and given him another, that was all the interaction he wanted with her.

            A loud explosion from one compartment forced him back to the Hogwart's Express.  Back to loud and inconsiderate children racing underfoot, trying to invent new and even more obnoxious noises.  Walking along he glanced at shadowy figures in each compartment, until he stopped in front of an intriguing sight.  Three figures sat quietly, the happiness that enveloped the train seemed to stop at the door, the chill effect as palatable as the dementor effect.  Interested Drake slid the door open to reveal Potter and the fan club sitting close together.  Potter looked distraught, Weasel worried, and the little one upset, but still trying to make Potter feel better.  Unable to resist the urge to torment the trio, Draco entered the compartment, leaning his lean back against the wooden frame   and drawled in a new American-British accent,

"What's the matter Potter?"  His voice dripped with malice.  

Harry looked up, removing his head from the comfort of his hands, and stared straight into Drake's eyes.  The emotion that dominated the emerald orbs was raw and bleeding pain.  It was a familiar sight.  It was a look that he saw every time he looked in his mirror.  The look of loss, the expression a person gets when a piece of your soul is ripped away.  Drake's eyes had already noticed, the one face he wanted to see missing.  Hermione wasn't with the dream team.  

"Granger?"  Potter nodded sharply, the pain of her absence was blatant.  Drake nodded once, and turned to leave.  The pain in Potter's eyes was too familiar to fuck with.  Walking away he heard the jackass whisper, "What the bloody hell was that?" and the little one respond, "Did you see that?  He looked broken."  And from Potter there was only silence as his shoulders shook with restrained tears and fury.

            Drake shook his head as he walked away from the broken dream team, this year was going to be a long one, making Potters life miserable was one of his favorite pastimes, and until Potter was healed there wouldn't be any sport in taking him down.  Drake snorted at his life as he wandered down the corridor.  Laughed at how his greatest joy was making others miserable, at how no one has tried to speak to him in the three months he was in New York, at how even though he was smart at potions everyone thought his marks were due to the disgusting favoritism of Professor Snape.  He laughed at the miserable excuse that was his life.  He didn't know how he lived without My, she had become his purpose, and without her he had none.  He had regressed to earlier years when he had nothing, and now that he knew what it was like to have a purpose, he didn't quite know what to do with the empty feeling inside of him.  Drake wandered down the aisle to the end of the train, looking around he quietly stepped out of the door, let the wind whip through his loose hair.

            Sitting down on the tiny platform, he cranked the volume on the player and allowed the music to flood his ears, let his thoughts drift to her, and allowed his heart to cry out for its match.  He trained his eyes on the blur of English countryside, somewhere out there My sat on a plane, flying back to the place that destroyed her.  He would never get to see her again, never feel her skin again, and never get to share the dance again.  He wished that he could return to August, to ask My to run away with him, to spend the rest of his life in dance, running away from her horrors, from the edicts and abuse of his father, running from the expectations.  

Just the two of them running forever.

*~*~*

            The grass was green and lush, the quidditch pitch well maintained and clean.  The covered stands held ghosts of happier times, screaming and shouting.  It held afterimages of friends celebrating and mourning together, victories and defeats forever being replayed.  My stood there and watched, saw her younger self jump and yell.  Each sweep of the flying brooms was a reason to scream herself hoarse.  It was an era of happier times, a time when war, pain and death were gray shades.  Distant hobgoblins riding the tail end of a bad dream.

            Things were different now.  The war was over, Quidditch was about to begin again, and for My death was everywhere.  Simply standing in the field hurt.  The dying screams filled her ears.  The same cries for mercy that haunted her mind for the last four months.  They were louder here.  The forest spread out behind her, a dark malevolent reminder of her sins, the dead's cries amplified by the branches until not even the strongest memory of silver eyes could keep them away.  Tears began to fall and My felt her barriers crumple to nothingness.  The nightmare began again.

_            She was in a cave._

_All around her black-cloaked men with blank masks stood and stared at the two boys in front of her.  _

_Ron lay curled on the cave floor, body bloody and broken, breathing labored and blood seeping out to stain the cave floor._

_Harry, anger brought to a boil and flash frozen trying to stare down the demonic apparition of Voldemort._

_All around them, taunts and jeers towards her, lascivious comments and suggestions.  Threats on her virginity, and demands for "personal time."_

_            It was too much.  Those awful, horrible men.  They killed her parents, Harry's parents, Sirius, Cedric, and so many nameless others, students adults and muggles.  They thought they were above life.  Above the basic decency, man was the only mammal to kill it's own kind for no reason.  It enraged her.  The sight of Ron, so full of life, lying on the floor so close to death, Harry screaming incoherently at the demonic figure that killed his parents shook her soul.  The sight of a sixteen-year-old boy engaged in a duel to the death with a grown man sickened her.  Then it happened.  From the corner of her eye, she saw him.  Avery stepping forward, a bolt of dark violet light struck Harry in the back.  An adult cheating in a preordained battle._

_Her rage grew._

_The heat in her blood rose red light flooded her eyes.  She watched Harry fall behind a haze of red.  Somehow she felt the end.  It was the end, either Harry or Voldemort.  One of them had to die, and only Harry could kill him.  These men had destroyed her life, and now they were trying to destroy the hope of the rest of the world._

_            In a fit of rage she flung her hands out to the side and angled to face to the roof of the cave.  "_**_Cease_**_."  Fire fell for her fingertips.  "This battle is none of your concern.  I am your concern."  Her voice crackled with flame and rage._

_            The masked men turned and stared at the enraged girl in front of them, unwittingly a voice in the back signed their death warrant._

_"Why should we concern ourselves with a filthy little mudblood when our lord is about to win?"  That word, the scorn at her self worth ended it.  The rage she felt expanded, the light grew and over her crackling voice, a keening cry filled the cave, echoing across the walls, filling the men's ears with the sound of death.  _

_"This is why you should be concerned with what a **mudblood** can do you fools.  Beware."  The light grew and grew, the fire spilled from her hands, from her body.  A phantasm of flame arced around her, caressed her, blew up her bushy hair, wove itself through it, back light her whole body in a halo of fire.  "Beware and burn."  The fire flowed and all around her there were screams._

_Cries_

_Pleas for mercy_

_Begging_

_Tears_

_In the background a faint whisper of "Avada Kedvarda" and double thumps.  Her strength waned.  The anger drained as the pain grew.  The fire continued burning a hole through her soul until she heard a voice.  Broken and pain filled.  A voice that was once cold and haughty, frightening and vicious now was fading and weak, pleading to a higher power._

_"Draco my son--" Then there was silence.  Hermione broke from her trance to see the bodies all around her, burned and smoking, crumbling to ash.  In the back of her mind a traitorous voice whispered 'freedom at last' before the voices of the dead filled her mind, and she remembered no more.  _

            She woke up in the dark three days later, alone in a hospital bed.  Awoke to an angry burn scar on her chest, voices of the dead in her mind, and surrounding her gifts to the girl that toppled an army and lost her soul.  Gifts to a murderer that killed seventy people in a fit of anger, seventy people that lived inside of her head.

She looked at the white walls and heard Malfoy's dying cry echo in her mind.  She felt the overwhelming need to escape.  She had to stop the voices.  Had to keep the emotions away.  So she left and didn't look back for four months.  For those four months she was alone, she survived, and she was still sane.

Better than that, not only did she keep hold of her sanity, but somehow she fell in love.

            But she gave it up.  Gave up the one person, the one thing that made the voices go away, to return.  Return to the place that destroyed her, to the one man that could answer her questions.

            Why did the questions matter so much?  Why were the hows and whens and whys so bloody important?  Because.  Because deep at heart, she was still the resident Hogwarts know-it-all with a thirst for knowledge.  She needed to know, needed her fears confirmed, her questions answered.  So she returned to her school and now, now she was paying for it with her hard earned sanity.  The forest reached for her.  Dark angry fingers straining to spirit her into its depths, ghosts hidden deep in the haunted wood came out to greet her, the screams of the dying and the echo of her won satisfaction resounded in her ears blocking out the sound of heavy footsteps.  Her vision faded to black around the edges, and she felt herself fall to the ground with a single word on her lips.

"_Drake_"

*~*~*

Hagrid sat in his hut waiting for the clock to strike eleven.  Today Hermione was coming home after an absence that never should have occurred.  Not to her. 

            Hermione had always been a favorite of his, all of the golden trio were, but Hermione with her steady hand and efficient voice helping him with Buckbeak in her third year made her stand out even against the light of Harry's afterglow.  Her thirst for information, her brains, and her power entitled her to a life of privilege in the wizard world and in the muggle one.  Yet the gifts that fell at her feet hadn't spoiled her, she earned each accolade, and she was still as humble as the first day she entered Hogwarts.  He thought of the time she spent on Buckbeak's trial, the gallons of drool Fang leaked on her, her acceptance of his parentage, and her selfless agreement to look after Gwap in her fifth year.  He thought about how much he owed her.  Now it was his chance to pay her back just a portion of the kindness she showed him.  Now he had a chance to look after her, take care of her, help her through the hell no seventeen year old should have to go through.

            Hearing the bells chime in the distance, he walked out of the hut and headed out to the pitch, to where Hermione was going to appear by portkey.  His long legs carried over the grounds in moments, broaching a slight in time to see a figure appear before him.  He took in the sight of her, she was still short, but now her once bony body was covered in smooth muscle.  Ruined makeup decorated a flawless face; mascara rivulets traced their way down her face to pool in the crevice of her collarbone.  It was her hair that caught his eye however, her long chocolate hair had darkened and straightened, streaks of auburn streaked through the chocolate, the evidence of her rebirth by flame.  

He watched as horror flickered across her face.

Watched as the sight of the forest increased the speed of her tears.

Watched bright and promising eyes go blank and haunted at sights only she could see.

Finally her watched as her body crumpled and she fell to the ground, limp as a child's doll.

            Hagrid reached closed the distance between the two of them in a matter of seconds, and had her up of the ground cradled in his arms before the dew could soak into her robes.  Looking down at the trunk and the suitcase sitting in a heap on the ground, Hagrid shouted to the air, hoping someone would here his call.  Houselves did have ears everywhere.

"Oi Dobby, are ya listening mate?"

A few seconds later, the elf appeared in a burst of lavender smoke, bowed, and gathered up all of the heavy baggage before disappearing once again.  Settling Hermione more comfortably against his chest Hagrid began walking towards the castle, his long legs carrying them to the door in a few moments.  Looking down at the fragile girl in his arms he hoped that when she woke up she would still be Hermione Granger, resident-know-it-all, not some broken stranger.  Striding through the cracked door, Hagrid paused, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light.  

"Hagrid," a Scottish brogue echoed through the hall.

"'ullo Minerva.  I dinna know wot to do wit 'ermione.  She collapsed on the Quidditch pitch just after the portkey brought 'er."

Minerva felt her heart break a little more at the sorry sight of her best student.  "I'll take it from here, Hagrid, I believe that she is just sleeping now."  Taking her wand, Minerva conjured a stretcher from the air, and allowed Hagrid to lay the sleeping girl gently on it.

            She turned and walked out of the hall, leaving Hagrid to do his duties, the stretcher following behind her.  Slowly they walked through the empty halls, footsteps echoing against the stone during the long trip to the headmaster's private office.  

"Oh my child.  Why did you leave?  We could have helped you through this, we could figure out exactly how to help you."  Minerva sighed, and was startled by a rusty voice from the stretcher.

"No one can help me Professor.  I am lost."  With that she turned over, leaving her back exposed to the distraught woman.  

"Miss Granger--" McGonagall tried to catch her attention but My couldn't hear her.  All of her concentration was focused on the steady throb of her heartbeat, the closest thing Hogwarts had to a beat. 

            Swollowing hard, Minerva simply placed a hand on her shoulder, and continued on the walk to Dumbledore's office.  Finally they reached the stone gargoyle that rolled open at the sound of Minerva's pointed boots.  Making certain that the girl was securely on the stretcher she began to walk up the stairs, and into the cozy circular room, ignoring the huffy expressions of the portraits.  

"Can you alert the Headmaster that Miss Granger has safely arrived, thought not as intact was we wished."  A few men and women nodded solemnly and disappeared behind the gilt frames.  The others moved closer to the edges of their backgrounds and watched the huddled figure with critical eyes.  Underneath the criticism, there was awe, pity, and underneath even that was an overwhelming and pervading sense of fear.

            A few minutes later, a portrait returned, her skin flushed and eyes shining with repressed tears.  "The Headmater is coming.  He will be up in a moment, however, he ask that you Professor McGonagall go and prepare the hall for the welcoming feast."  The professor narrowed her eyes at the already distraught portrait, her dislike at leaving her charge clear.  Finally though, her allegiance to Dumbledore won and gently squeezing Hermione's shoulder, she left the office.

            My lay there on the stretcher, the steady THUMP of her heart battled with the cries of the dying.  She was tired of fighting them, she wanted the clean exhaustion that came with the dance, wanted the liquid movement of the muscles and the blend of music and self.  Bracing herself for an onslaught of buried memories, she opened her eyes to see a comforting reminder of her childhood.  She had always felt safe in the Headmaster's office, the debriefing that she went through after the trios little adventures always calmed her.  The warmth and the portraits always made her feel comfortable and secure.  Today thought they stared at her with different expressions.  Today they stared at her with fear in their eyes, as though she was going to burst into flames at any moment.  She glared at the former Heads and laughed bitterly as they ran from their frames, muttering excuses.  Their oobvious fear didn't help her.  The already impairing de-humanization she suffered from grew worse with every terror filled glance.

            Curling up she waited for the headmaster to appear.  Waiting for him to come and explain her fate, the fate of a murderer.  The tears began to fall onto the stretcher again, leaving her cheeks damp, her pale skin once again covered.  The pain took over and My retreated, retreated to a world of techno beats and hip hop rhythm.  Gray and gold eyes met, they moved together, the music washed through and around her, as another song filled her ears, dominated her attention.

High and Pure

Salvation and Forgiveness

Revenge and Renewal

Death and the_ inevitable_ Rebirth

            It was Fawkes.  The phoenix had flown in from somewhere and settled in the hollow between her knees and chest, his heat comforted like a warm drink on a cold day.  She didn't move, just placed a slender hand on his back and retreated back into memories of gray eyes that held her and understood her.  Loved her and didn't judge her.

            A voice broke through her musings, a voice that brought back unpleasant happenings and unwanted feelings.

"Ah-- Miss Granger.  Welcome back to Hogwarts."  Blue eyes ripped into her soul.  "I won't demean you by asking after your holiday.  I just hope that it provided you with time to collect your thoughts, reorder your mind."  She glared at him.  Generalized anger towards him and her pain made the fire inside her spike.

"You bloody bastard."  The Hermione of old shuddered at her language.  She would never swear at the headmaster.  To My, it didn't matter.  For three months she remained silent about what happened.  Now being back, having the voices out of the barriers she erected made her snap.  She didn't care who was in front of her, didn't care how yelling at him would affect her future.

"You--" her voice shook with suppressed rage, the only thing keeping the volume down was the soft Phoenix song from the corner.  "You dare ask me about my holiday?  Ask if I have my head on straight?"  She glared, honey eyes flashed.  "How exactly is a murderer supposed to 'reorder her thought?'"  Her voice was biting and acerbic, the sarcasm enough to freeze even Snape in his tracks.

Dumbledore cringed internally.  She was on edge, her pain obvious.  He knew he had left it to long.  She should have returned long ago.  The day after she ran away even.

But he had hoped.

Hoped she understood the power of her sacrifice.

Hoped she would find her peace in dance, not just a respite from the guilt.

Hoped that in his arms find happiness.

But instead HE forced her back here.

Back to face her demons.

Demons he allowed to possess her.

"Hermione, you are not a murderer.  You saved everyone.  You helped Harry complete his destiny and to save the world from such ugliness.  You are a hero."  She snorted, the fire in the room twitched with her movements.  "If you allow me to explain, you will se you are far from a murderer."  My turned and glared at the old man.

"Shut.  Up."  She hissed, ignoring scandalized murmers from the few portraits brave enough to return.  "I don't deserve to be here with these children."  

            For almost two hours they argued.  My proclaiming her depravity and disgust at being alive, while Dumbledore struggled to counter her arguments.  Tried to draw her away from the teetering edge.  Tried to make her feel her own worth.

            Unknown to him, it was working.  My could feel the truth in his words, could read the sincerity in his eyes.  

Maybe she wasn't so evil.  The traitorous thoughts slipped into her mind, past her barriers and struck like a blow.

Maybe she had the right to live.  Then it happened.  Malfoy's dying voice filled her mind, calling for his son.  And she fell back into self-loathing.  She deserved the hell she was in, there was only one person that could release her from it, and she wasn't worthy enough to beg for his forgiveness.

            Dumbledore thought he had done it.  Finally gotten through to her.  When it happened.  Eyes he didn't know were soft hardened again.  Glittering diamonds fronting a mask of fire and ice.  For the first time since Grindlewald, he felt an inkling of fear creep along his spine.  It didn't last long however, he remembered who she was, his favorite Gryffindor girl in fifty years and compassion deadened the fear.

"You are not a murderer Miss Granger."  He drew a deep breath, there was so much he had to tell her, so much he had to make her understand.

_à Here it is, the fifth chapter, I know I know it took a LONG time, but real life crept up on me, I really wasn't sure how to continue from chapter five, and I had to rewrite this a few times until I was if not happy, at least content with how it, a transition chapter turned out.  I hope this matches the expectations you have and if it doesn't, please let me know what you think.  _

_            Just to warn you, I am in college, and so I can't guarantee a set update schedule, but I won't stop writing until its done…My and Drake won't let me quit (hear that Louise?)_

_Thanks to everyone that reviewed, opening my email and seeing those emails, helped me through tough times.  Once again thank you.  _


	6. First Dance

Chapter 6

The First Dance

(A/N:: Ummm…this story belongs to me, but the characters and anything you recognize belongs to JKR.  Disappointing huh?)

_Previously on The Power of Dance…_

_            Malfoy's dying voice filled her mind, calling for his son.  And she fell back into self-loathing.  She deserved the hell she was in, there was only one person that could release her from it, and she wasn't worthy enough to beg for his forgiveness._

_"You are not a murderer Miss Granger."  He drew a deep breath, there was so much he had to tell her, so much he had to make her understand._

"NO."  My screamed into the compassionate face in front of her.  "What the hell are you doing?  I am a murderer, seventy people died under a reign of fire I summoned.  Fire that left Ron, Harry and myself alone.  I burned my classmate's parents to ash for Merlin's sake.  Parkinson, Goyle, Flint, Crabbe.  

"All gone.  

"All inside of my head."  She looked into blue eyes deprived of their usual twinkle.  "You say that I am not guilty, not a murderer.  What am I supposed to tell Draco?  Should I tell him that his father cried for his son with his last breathe?  That all around me the people he grew up knowing begged and pleaded for mercy and the fires only got hotter?"  My paced around the room, the fire and candlelight flickering with every step, attuned to her every move.  "I was angry, they insulted me, and instead of throwing curses, even dark ones, instead of protecting Harry with a shield spell, I called down fire.  I let rage take control over me and called down liquid fire burning them all.

"And now-" Hermione's voice grew soft and scared.  "And now they all live inside of my head and I relive every cry every day, all day."  She glared at the headmaster.  Continuing before he could speak, trying to talk over the voices screaming in her mind, this was their story to tell.  She clasped her shaking hands forcing out every negative emotion she felt towards the Headmaster.

"I got away, I found a place doing something to block out the voices.  It worked, I was sane for three months, and in fact I was happy for a month. 

"Happier for a single month than I have been in the last two years.  But you tore it down.  You who I owe so much too.  You brought me back here, back to a place where all my shields and all of the things I learned this summer mean nothing."  She looked at the headmaster silent tears falling down her face, fire kissed hair spread out all around her. 

"They are killing me.

"As I killed them."  At that she collapsed to the floor and sobbed, her body graceful even in despair.  

            Dumbledore fingered his white beard and stared at the whimpering child in front of him.  

So much pain in a person so small.  

Forcing his knees to bend, he crouched in front of the weeping girl.  Placing his cool fingers under her burning chin he forced her face up to meet his eyes.

"My child.  Hermione.  I cannot pretend to know your pain.  To understand the agony that you are going through.  But I repeat.  You are not, nor have you ever been a murderer."  Knowing he had her attention, he rose and stared at the fragile girl in front of him.  Stared at the tears falling down ashen cheeks.  She wasn't ready.

            She wasn't ready to know the truth about herself and about her future.  Walking to his desk, he opened a drawer and removed a slim leather bound book.    Walking back to her prone form, he handed her the book, searching her eyes for the perfect prefect of two years ago.

"Miss Granger, I give you this with the idea that you will not abuse the privilege, nor will you show it to others."  Having completed his search of her eyes, he held out a lined hand and helped the girl to her feet.  Walking her towards the door he placed a guiding hand on the small of her back, gently pushing her from his office.  Before she left however, he spoke again, this time, a faint hint of a plan to his words.

"Good bye Miss Granger.  Do try and attend the feast, your friends have missed you deeply."  At that Hermione's eyes closed and her body stiffened as if stabbed.  Already partway through the door she stopped and turned back to him.  For the first time presenting him with My, not the broken shell that was Hermione.

"Did Harry get his gift?"  Her voice was rough, trying to keep out the panic.  Dumbledore nodded.

"He did, even Severus was impressed with the design and effect.  I honestly do not know if I could duplicate your work.  Harry wears it anytime he is in public."  My nodded once, and perhaps it was Dumbledore imagination, but her shoulders seemed to straighten as through a load had been lifted.

"Goodbye sir."  She walked out of his office.  

            Her mind in a whirl, her feet walked along familiar stone.  They carried her automatically to the entrance to the Gryffindor common room.  Waiting with a vacant expression, My waited counted the beats of her heart until the Fat Lady noticed her presence.  

"Oh my dear child."  The woman in the portrait gasped."  Oh my child you have finally come home."  The portrait swung open, revealing the common room.  "The passwords are apple blossom and Phoenix Flight."

My entered the room.  Nothing had changed.  A fire burned coolly in the hearth, red couches clean and the plush carpet immaculate.  Resting on a table was a slip of parchment, a note from Professor McGonagall.

                        _Miss Granger--_

_                                    In light of certain events, the school is willing to overlook previous             stipulations and provide you with a single room for the time being until you have        become better adjusted to being back at Hogwarts._

_                        Minerva_

            My laughed bitterly, they just didn't want her to kill Lavender and Pavarti in a fit of teenage pique.  The thought suddenly wasn't as ironically funny.  It could happen.  She thought of the disgusting man in New York, she had almost killed him.  If everyone was to survive this year, she was going to have to control her volatile temper.  That meant not letting nasty comment upset her, or allowing Ron to manipulate her.  That is if he was even willing to speak with her.  She let her eyes crawl around the room, memorizing every detail all over again, when something new caught her eye.  A new painting rested on the wall by the dormitories.

A fiery bird in flight arced across the ground.  Beak open in a silent cry, the moment of freedom forever trapped in the oil paints.  Allowing her fingers to hover over the bird she imagined the heat radiating off of the glittering feathers.  Felt the freedom of the flight, of the Phoenix.

            Moving closer, until her eyes met the birds she whispered "The joys and freedom of the phoenix flight, I wish it could set me free."  As she spoke the words, the painting dissolved leaving the gilt frame empty revealing an entrance to a new room she had never, in seven years, seen.  It was a room of cool blues and whites, shelves full of familiar books.  A couch and plush chairs lined the walls, a large fireplace housing a cool blue flame.  In a corner by the wall-sized window, a sturdy table, perfect for her old voracious reading and study habits.  In the other corner, a twin bed, sheets a cool blue and white, a single red and gold pillow resting above the duvet.  The coolness of the room seeped under her barriers, siphoning off the heat radiating from her skin.

The room was to quiet though.  There were hours before anyone would appear in the Gryffindor common room. It was hours before the feast.  The thought made her shiver.  Hundreds of eyes, focusing on her, judging her, all trying to determine her worth, her validity, her sins.

My closed her eyes and tried to ward off the sweeping feelings of shame and disgust that were threatening to claim her for the third time today.  She began counting the steps she took, as she stalked around the room, looking for her possessions.  She found all of her old school things, cleaned and pressed, organized in her own anal-retentive way.  Untouched however, was a pale blue suitcase, her clubbing clothes.  

Short skirts, leather, lace, and mesh.  

Strappy shoes, glitter and glam.  

The history of her summer and the ticket to her current and now decreasing sanity.

 Lifting a glittering bit of fabric from the case she could hear the throb of base in the back of her skull She could remember the magnetic energy of the dance, the feeling of warm dry hands and her waist and shoulders, roaming across her body, claiming her as their own.

            She remembered the safety in a pair of arms, the completeness of having a partner, the culmination of the dance and the nearly breathless anticipation of the next one.  She pictured deep and wounded eyes, twin pools of gray waters to cool her heat.  How she missed those eyes, hands, and spirit.  They had spent every night together for a month.  She had never had a deep conversation with him, but their dance was so close, so intimate, that she felt as though she had known him forever.  She knew his smell and his movement, the way he thought and sometimes how he felt about her, she could read it in his eyes, and in the way he held her.

            Clutching the book Dumbledore sent her and the tiny shirt, My sank into a pale chair with a heavy sigh.  Leaving Drake in New York had been hard, but she knew it wasn't fair to him.  A caring, slightly damaged muggle should have nothing to do with a more than slightly crazed, utterly destroyed witch.  She was eighteen years old.  In those years she had fought a troll, been petrified, released a convicted murderer, befriended a werewolf, dated a sports star, rebelled against the Headmistress, lost and buried her parents, gained an eating disorder, lost her best friends, fought in an adult war, killed seventy people, lost her sanity, found true love, and lost it again.

So much loss.

It wasn't fair to Drake to expect him to still be thinking of her.  They met in a club, shared a few dances.  She still wished.  Wished she could have ignored the official Hogwarts owl.  Ignored his edict of return.  Wished she had taken the trust fund her parents left her and stayed in New York on her own, or with Drake.  

But of course, the fund wasn't activated until she graduated, and for seventeen years she had been Hermione Granger, resident know-it-all, bookworm, and brownnoser.  The weight of her past made the direct command of a teacher too strong to ignore.

My closed her eyes against the headache, the pounding shame for being alive and the body numbing rage at being forced back to Hogwarts.  She knew that Dumbledore was the only one that could answer her questions, the only person that could tell her what she was and what she would become.

            She wasn't ready yet though.  Her mind was fragile and the voices were loud.  Curling her tiny feet up, she tucked them underneath her.  She uncurled her fingers from the tiny leather book Dumbledore gave her.  Gently opening the yellowed pages she stared at the title in amazement.

**"A Look at the Anti-Transportation Wards at Hogwarts School"**

Her eyes widened as she wondered at this seemingly random choice.  Then it dawned on her.  He knew, knew about her dancing and how important it was to her.  He gave her the means to leave, to dance, to stay sane and in control.

            Settling down deeper into the chair she began to read, eyes growing wider with each page.  It took nearly two hours to read the slim book comprehensively, but she was done, and almost happy.  She knew how to safely and silently leave Hogwarts without anyone being alerted of a spell.  Flipping to the back cover, she allowed her eyes to scan the list engraved in the leather.  Finding:

_--Manchester, England: Post office---dungeon west torture chamber, fifth rack._

_--London, England: Downtown ---sixth floor west hall east corridor, Hearth_

_--Tokyo, Japan: Ministry---Astronomy Tower, eighth closet from the top._

The London entry caught her eye.  She had no idea Hogwarts had this type of experimental magic.  Walkways were rare and could be dangerous.  A single step through the selected doorway and then a step through folded space, connecting hundreds of miles of ground behind on door, hidden from the school in plain view.  My closed her eyes and tried to consider how best to get to the corridor, she knew that she would have her dance.  The sounds of raucous laughter forced her eyes open.  Hours passed since she opened the book, and the student body had returned to school.

            Knowing Dumbledore wanted her to go to the feast, the magnitude of his trust still no her shoulders forced her to stand.  She removed the baggy sweatpants and cotton tank top she had been wearing and slipped into a clubbing outfit.  The vinyl pants slid over her slim legs, while a lacy corset enunciated her modest curve.  Spelling her makeup and hair, she sat in the chair again to slid on a pair of heeled boot, that never hurt her feet and added five inches.  Reaching into the closet she removed a black school robe, and the tall hat she despised.  Running trembling fingers over the familiar school crest, she grabbed her wand and cast an ignore spell on the robe.  People would see her, but ignore her very presence, never bothering to question her.  Pulling the robe on filled her with security.  The fear of people dredging up old memories was lessened by the easy charm.

            Taking a deep breathe, My walked out of her new room and out of the safety of the Gryffindor tower all together.  She arrived at the entrance to the giant hall along with the rest of the student body.  She could feel eyes touch on her, and then slid off like oil and water.  Walking along the tables she sat at the last seat, away from the main bulk of the student body.  Positioning her body to watch the incoming students she settled back to see old friends and people that she didn't deserve to look at.

            The last faces to slid into seats before the feast began were enough to bring tears to her reddened eyes.  Harry, Ron, and Ginny sat in a tight group quiet and isolated from throughput the school.  The rest of the seventh years shared the same expression.  Dazed, slightly confused at the absence of a familiar piece.  The missing piece was her.  The pale skinned Ginny rubbed at her already red eyes, and the shell-shocked expression on Harry's face almost made her want to remove the charm, to reveal herself and to drown her pain in the familiar arms of her best friends.  The glares from the other houses quickly killed that idea.  Their searching eyes made her glad of the charm, glad their curious and searching stares wouldn't break her barriers.

*~*~*

            Dumbledore stood and overlooked his student body.  He knew each and every face, but some drew his attention stronger than others.  Draco sat at the Slytherin table, a blank expression on his aristocratic face.  The rest of his housemates muttered, plotting evil deeds.  Draco wasn't part of it; he was very far away, dancing in a New York nightclub.  A glint of red drew his attention to a group of three at the Gryffindor table.  The last Weasley's looked broken, a part of them missing.  Harry's expression was vacant, his pain at the missing face evident to anyone that ever met him.  The rest of the older Gryffindor students seemed so lost.  What would they do without her?  Looking out over the rest of the students, he could feel the hungry curiosity of the Ravenclaws and the avid attention of the Hufflepuffs, and was glad the Hermione didn't decide to join them at the feast.

            He ran his eyes back over the Gryffindor table, feeling like he ought to know something.  Then he felt it, his eyes, sliding off a presence at the end of the table as though it was coated in butter.  Focusing his attention, he looked again and saw her.  She had come after all, wearing an easy ignore spell that wasn't taught until seventh year.  Just seeing her there, once again demonstrating her potential, he knew she was going to be all right, and so, ha called to Minerva to bring in the first years for sorting.

            Dumbledore wasn't the only one to notice the blank in the corner of the Gryffindor table.  Fingering a scar in his forearm, the Potions Master stared at the blank, deep in thought.  He tried to figure out a way to release himself from the debt he was under.  Looking at the students he taught he felt nothing but disgust.  She was one of two in the whole school with potential.  He regarded the incoming first years with a critical eye.  Already they seemed incompetent.

"Blaine, Doris"

He let his eyes drift to the other potential, his favorite.  The boy looked tired.  Tired and absent from the proceedings.  His mind obviously on someone, somewhere else.  He was so focused on that elsewhere that he couldn't see what was in front of his face.  Snape's eyes narrowed as his agile mind tried to figure out his dilemma.

"Haverfield, Richard."

"Keely, Lisa."

"Reiser, Paul."

"Xanyan, Indira."

"Zabaini, Cheyenne."

Snape looked between the two of them.  Neither could see the truth.  Then as the last student called was placed in Slytherin he knew.  He knew exactly how to repay his debt.  Settling back he allowed Dumbledore to repeat the same speech as always.  The end this year was very different.  At the end of it, after warnings and edicts, Dumbledore informed the school of her presence.

"…The final list can be found in Filch's office.  Now last May many of you remember the events that occurred.  Some lost friends, some siblings, and many lost parents.  However, in that loss, the war has ended.  The sight of black envelopes will not silence this hall every morning.  Everyone that should be here is, and everyone is welcome to an education.  I know there are many questions that need to be addressed, however, the answers will come with time.  For now, know everything and everyone is in their place.  Have a good year."  And he sat, his eye twinkling at the sight of fried chicken in front of him.

*~*~*

            My swallowed quickly, the bite of tomato almost choking her.  Dumbledore as good as told the entire school that she was there.  She looked around at all of the students cramming dense food into their mouths.  Pushing a carrot around on her plate, she listened to the chatter all around her.  The Slytherins were muttering and the mudblood bitch and flimsy plans for revenge.  My forced herself not to glance at the blonde head surrounded by the hateful group.  The Hufflepuff house had decided that she killed the deatheaters in order to take over the dark position herself, and Harry killed her in the final battle as well.  The Ravenclaws remained neutral, they simply wanted to know what spell she used, and if they were going to be tested on it.  The Gryffindor house was the worst however.  They just wanted to know where she was.

"Dumbledore said she was here.  Where is she?"

"I can't believe that she didn't come, it's the last welcome feast we'll have."

"Who will tutor the younger students in everything?"

"I miss her."

It was to much.  My stood, the fist year sharing the bench startled by the sudden movement of the empty bench seat.  Gathering her robes closer, and making sure the little girl didn't fall she left.  Her heart beating painfully, she walked past all of the tables towards the doors, never noticing a pair of gray eyes following her out.

*~*~*

            He had enough.  The crude words, the simpering laughs, the whispers of revenge.  He wanted peace.  The rumors about her flew about him.  Rumors he knew were false.  Vaguely he wondered how Potter was taking the rumor that Granger was the new Dark Lady.  He would laugh, sweet innocent Hermione?  Never.  Drake knew better.  Death can change anyone, killing changes everyone.  Killing seventy people, even for the good of humanity would change a person.  It would change her so much even Dumbledore would have trouble finding the old her underneath the damage.

            He let his eyes wander across the hall he once considered his own, observing the people he grew up with.  As he quickly scanned over the Gryffindor table he felt strange, a desire to ignore one end of the table.  A desire to simply skip past that end of the table.  Drake's eyes narrowed.  An ignore charm.  He knew it well; it saved him from many beatings as a child.  It was safe at Hogwarts; he hadn't felt the need for the spell in years.  Who would need to hide in plain view at Hogwarts.  Then Dumbledore finished his speech and the whisperings began in earnest, the patch began to move, almost run towards the door.  Then he knew.

            The only person that would need to hide at Hogwarts was HER.  Not knowing why he felt so drawn to her, he stood and excused himself, the adoring eyes of the new Slytherin girls followed him out the door.  Another generation to worship the Slytherin Prince.  He walked down the hall trying to analyze why he wanted to speak to her so badly.  Did he want to see her pain, see what changes the summer had brought to her?  No.  Did he want to ask her about his father?  Sort of.  Drake shook his head.  He just wanted to see her.  Make sure, make sure she was alright.  He walked down the hall quietly, listening for the click of shoes on stone.

            Following the noise down three corridors and up, down and around six flights of stairs it finally stopped just around the corner, in an abandoned floor.  Drake waited to see what her next move was.  From his position around the corner, he heard cloth drop to the ground and a strange grating scrape combined with a spell Drake had never heard of before.  As he committed the words and inflections to memory, he heard the one sound other than his father that sent shivers down his spine.

"Miss Granger."  Snape's silky smooth voice echoed down the hall.  Draco felt sorry for her, she was about to be blasted by Snape.  Never a pleasant experience.  Caution overcome by curiosity, Drake peered around the corner and saw a dark figure.  A familiar figure talking to his Head of House in front of a open gate.  Some type of passage.  Drake watched with morbid, and vaguely disgusted curiosity as Snape ran his eyes clinically over the girls body.

"You are still to skinny."

"S-S-Sir?"

"You look like a fish Miss Granger.  Do shut your mouth and listen carefully.  If you leave each night at nine you can evade the patrols and Filch.  However, you must be back by four.  The castle locks itself down at that time, a leftover security measure from the war."  Once again he looked at her provocative cloths.  "Bring your robe, London is dangerous at night.

"Why sir?  You hate me."  She was obviously confused.  So was Drake.

"Very good Miss Granger.  However, you also set me free and I am going to do the same for you."  Drake felt as though his world was no end.  Snape sounded as paternal as he got.  And what was meant by setting her free?  He watched as Granger hung the robe on the sword of a marble statue sitting peacefully.  Walking to the open grate, she turned back to her professor.

"Don't worry sir.  I can take care of myself.  I can always kill them right?"  The bitterness in her voice was as sharp as a kick to the kidneys.  The sight of her walking through the gate however, was far worse, it was a knife in the heart.  The sight of her with chocolate brown hair intertwined with red hurt, Granger had My's hair.

The sight forced the breathe out of him, and he inhaled sharply.  He pressed his heard to the wall to gather his roiling emotions.  He hadn't managed it before he heard,

"Come out this instant Mr. Malfoy."  Drake felt hope crash.  Snape had known he was there the whole time.

"Sir I was just going to go to--"

"Shut up Mr. Malfoy.  Go after her, you heard the incantation.  Knowing you I am sure it has been memorized.  Memorize your arrival point and go after her.  The same timeline applies to you.  Leave before nine, and be back before four."  Drake felt his mouth hanging open.  "Well boy, what are you waiting for?"  Snape gestured at the wall.

            Clearing his throat Drake turned towards the wall and spoke the incantation, readying himself to walk through the portal.  It was a way to London, a way to search for My.

"You are searching for Miss Granger Mr. Malfoy.  Do not forget that.  Oh, bring her the robe, it gets chilly at night."  Snape pushed Granger's robe into Drake's hand and pushed him towards the portal, watching as the flabbergasted boy stepped through space.

*~*~*

"Sevrus?"

"Hello Headmaster.  Snape was unfazed by the arrival of the omnipotent man.

"How did you know, I thought--"

"Surly you didn't think that you and Minerva were the only ones to keep an eye on our two wayward and blatantly oblivious students."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, being surprised was a new feeling.

"Well, Well, Well.  Why Sevrus?"

"That is a far more difficult and personal question."

The two men turned and faced each other.  Blue eyes looked up into black ones.

"Why did you push them Sevrus?"

"She deserves to be happy.  And I have seen that he makes her happy.  We both know what the phoenix curse does.  She deserves _something_ until it takes over."

"Yes Sevrus, I agree, but why did you actively involve yourself?"

Snape was silent for a moment, and his eyes focused on a point far away from the drafty hall.  "I was there you know.  At the Crystal Cave.  I had been exposed as a traitor and spy.  They were going to 'take care of me' as soon as those three fools had been killed.  I was to be tortured...just like the muggles of so many years ago.  I saw as the curse fell from the roof of the cave and consumed her.  I watched as the phoenix controlled her temper and anger, and I watched as the fire began.  I felt the fire.  It burned Albus.  Worse than any dark curse, worse than anything.  It burned brighter and hotter than my guilt and self-loathing.

"I could feel the fire lick up my cloths and skin, felt it seat and burn my body.  I felt death coming, dying with the deatheaters like I have always deserved.  I stood in the cave, fire burning my skin and soul and I watched them die.  Watched as Potter destroyed the Dark Lord.  As young Weasly healed in a cocoon of flame, and as Lucius died crying for his son.  That's when the pain grew to great.  I felt a final spurt of extreme heat against my body and soul, and I passed out.  I woke to cold.  My body shivered in the absence of the fire.  I looked around, surrounding me were the ash outlines and crumbling bodies.  There were no survivors.  I looked where she stood and saw nothing.  They had left.

"I returned to Hogwarts as soon as I could stand.  I felt fragile, as though I had been shattered and melted only to be recast into a better person.  A stronger person.  I am better.  So you see I owed it to her.  I owe her my freedom."  Sevrus pulled up his sleeve and revealed his forearm.  Instead of the vulgar dark mark, a scar was there in the form of a tear.  What nineteen years of magic and struggle couldn't do, a girl and fire burned both the mark and the guilt form in body and soul.

"She set me free Albus.  All that's left is a scar, in the shape of a tear.  A healing phoenix tear.  Even in her rage, consumed by the curse she healed me.  Cleansed my soul in a shower of fire.  Don't you get it? I owe her."  He fingered the scar on his arm.  Wonder in his eyes.  "So you see I had to help now, there is no way this will effect my teaching method."

            Dumbledore stared at the younger man with new eyes.  Sevrus had been consumed by shame for many years, it seemed he was already on his way to recovery-- he made a joke.

"You have to tell her you know.  She thinks that she killed everyone.  Tell her you survived."  Snape shook his head and walked away.  He had done his duty towards Miss Granger, the rest was up to her and Draco.  He smiled to himself, maybe it was up to Drake and My.

*~*~*

    My felt free.  Music flowed around her, her body twisted and rode the waves of sound.  Every pound of the heavy gothic bass was a new experience.  It was as fresh as the first time she ever danced.  My had entered the club and headed straight for the floor, ignoring all of the eyes. They weren't silver.  She allowed the music to wash over her, to step into a world of music and rhythm.  A place to heal and to rebuild all that she worked for.  The heavy thump of the beat blocked out the cries and she was able to feel the dance.

Be the dance.

_...Fin for now..._

A/N::Well here is chapter six.  I cut it shorter than I had written on paper so the next chapter will be longer than normal.  At this chapter I have reached over 110 reviews and I'd like so thank all of you so much There are some repeat reviewers that have often really made my day and I'd like to thank you by name.  You guys are all so nice and I thank you for your kind words.

Thanks to:

Angelic fire, Mina-Chan 2, darkstar, fixedinsanity, foreveryours89, L'aqua, The Blue Lady1,  Draco-Malfoy-Sevrus-Luva, _kamikaze899_, PsychoJo, JazzyLady, Vampiress-Alexiel, Banana Flavored Eskimo, Sweetie2.

You guys are the best.

I hope everyone has a happy holiday season and a kick ass new year.

Love to all,

Cat


	7. Ashen

Chapter 7

Ashen

_(A/N:: Not mine...never has been never will be.)_

            Drake stumbled from the portal slightly queasy.  It was worse than floo and apperating combined.  Trying to get his stomach in order, he looked around.  He was standing in a dark alley in the middle of downtown London, a puddle of darkened sludge right next top his foot.  The water smelled of death and garbage and somewhere behind him, he heard the skittering of a rat.  He ran his left hand through loose blonde hair, trying to regain his bearings, this dank place brought back memories of Malfoy manor and the punishments and entertainments that Lucius enjoyed.  He looked down at his right hand, in an iron grip he held her robe.  His fingers buried so deeply in the weave of the fabric his knuckles turned white, the quicker he left the quicker could find Granger and then possibly My.

            Pulling his wand from the inside pocket of his sleeve, he shrank Granger's robe to a size more suitable for a baby doll than for a person.  Drake tucked the miniature robe in one of his pockets and cautiously left the alley, searching for a tiny girl in vinyl pants.

            As soon as he exited the alley he knew that he was in trouble.  All around him dark figures streamed towards a forbidding building

Ashen.

The new and very successful club that catered to the tastes of the dark, the lonely and the alienated.  Girls and men walked by in leather and vinyl, high heels and heavy eyeliner.  Hair dyed matte black or streaked and dreaded.  There was no way that the bookish girl he had lived to torment would journey into such a place.

            He crossed the street towards it, the streets were empty, not once did the twin orbs of headlights interrupt his search of the street.  He aimed towards the curb, planning to stay away for the crowds at Ashen's doors, to wander farther down the street to search for the Gryffindor queen.

Something held him, pulled him closer.

Pulled him towards the dark entrance insides glowing red.

He felt the force close in on his heart and force him towards the door.  It was the same familiar pull he felt during the summer.  The same force that led him to My each night.  It was how he found her, her presence called to him, pulled him forward.  He could hear Snape telling him to only look for Granger, but the pull was to strong.  A magical calling he couldn't and didn't want to refuse.

            Confirming the security of his wand tucked in the robe sleeve pocket, he stepped forward.  Bypassing the entrance line, Drake walked towards the bouncer, held out a wad of bills and waited.  Waited as the bouncer looked him over.  Studied the expensive shoes he wore, the black woolen robe, shaggy blonde hair and shielded empty eyes.

As always, after a quick count of the money on hand and a glance at the ID, the bouncer nodded.

"Welcome to Ashen Mr. Malfoy."

Drake nodded and stepped through the entrance into an inferno.  Red lights and dark dancers surrendering to the pulse of the heavy bass line.  He could feel it pulse for him.  It lured him closer, the beat of the club echoed in his head and heart.  The red lights swirled and in front of him a phantom appeared, My's transparent body stood in a empty space, her eyes meeting his.  Her body moving to the beat.  He opened his barriers and let the music take him, take him to the place he shared with My, where only the music mattered.

*~*~*

            Across the floor she danced, wrapped in a cocoon of music and dreams, in the music she was safe and connected.  Closer to him, even if he was far from her.

*~*~*

And so they danced.  Rational thoughts were driven from their minds.  There was no room for anything but the beat and the dance.  From opposite sides of the floor there bodies moved in tandem, a magnetic force drawing them forward.  The press of bodies and the dull light deadened Drake's senses, deadened his mind, made him feel safe enough to let go of the ever-present tension that living in Malfoy manor caused.  Made him feel secure enough to close his silver eyes.

Close his eyes the moment chocolate cherry hair came towards him.

They danced oblivious to each other, back to front, lost in a world of ghosts, dreams, and music.  They could have danced alone all night.

Fate had other plans.

A jealous girl accused her boyfriend of hitting on someone else and hit him.  Blood rushed to the man's cheek, and his volatile temper rose, he raised a fist ready to hit the smaller girl.  Observers rushed in, trying to stop the man from doing something he would regret.  The group around the couple shifted the dynamics of the dance floor.  All around her the crowd shifted, breaking the untouchable rhythm that My had with the music.  She lost her footing and slipped on the slick dance floor, falling backwards.

*~*~*

My felt the crowd shift, push her.  Felt herself fall back.

She braced herself for the hard floor but felt nothing.

Nothing but warmth.

Familiar warmth and comfort.

She opened her eyes to see silver eyes.

A pair of perfect eyes.

*~*~*

Drake stared at the petite body in his arms.  

Stared at the chocolate hair. 

At the amber eyes.  

At the well loved face.

It was her.

*~*~*

It was him.

My watched the beloved face smile, and twist.  She saw the questions in his eyes and in the movements of his lips.  But no questions would ruin this.

This example of fortunes favor.

He set her onto her feet.  She stared, deep into his eyes, she saw his love.

She placed a finger over his soft lips and rest her head on his shoulder.  

Looking up into his eyes she whispered, "For tonight, for now, all we have is the dance."

Drake nodded, and the music enveloped them.

Till Next Time

A/N::  Alright, this is kind of a random chapter, its the dance between chapter six and the long awaited chapter 8, At Last.  In chapter 8 the moment you have all been waiting for occurs, they figure it out, and then have to deal with the fallout.  My classes begin on Tuesday, and At Last is only partially written so I don't know when it will be completed, but as you wait you can wonder what is going to happen next.

Thanks to all who review...it is much appreciated.


	8. At Last

Power of Dance

Chapter 8

At Last

_(A/N:: Standard Disclaimers apply here…all known characters are the property of JK Rowling and Warner Brothers.)_

            My's breath was harsh.  Her heart throbbed in her ears, a rapid testimony to her speed.  She couldn't believe it he was here.  Even as she ran through London streets, lost, trying to find a single darkened alley that would lead her back to school, the thought of him made her smile.  They had seen each other the night before, and yet it seemed as though months had passed.  The feeling of his hands on her as the music washed through them was intoxicating.  They danced until in a break of the music she heard a bell chime the hour.

3:00 AM

She knew she had to get back; she had to be in the school before four.  And yet she couldn't leave him.  One more dance couldn't hurt.  Now she was racing down darkened London streets, boots clicking as the cool wind chilled her, if only she had her robe.

            The thought of the fine black wool of her school robe brought her thoughts back to Drake.  She had never seen him in less than Muggle best, his refined and simple taste reflected in all of his clothing.  Tonight however, it was different, tonight he wore a black robe of soft fine wool.

So familiar

As she ran her mind screamed at her from behind the barrier.  She knew that she was stupidly ignoring a big fact.  Ignoring all of the hints she had been getting over the last month.  As she approached the portal she forced down the traitorous snippets of clues.  She was back at school, allowed to dance, and he was right by her side.  That was all she needed.

            At five minutes to the hour My stepped through the portal and arrived back in the abandoned hall in Hogwarts.  Walking to the statue that she had hung her robe on, she placed her hand behind it, searching for soft cloth.

To find nothing but stone.

Confused, My looked at the ground and at the other statues close to the portal.  Her robe was gone.  Standing in the middle of the dim hallway she searched of a pile of dark clothing, when a voice broke through her concentration

"Looking for this Granger?"  My turned and gasped.  All the slips and hints of the summer stood right in front of her.  It was him.

*~*~*

"Looking for this Granger?"  Drake drawled as her watched the vinyl clad girl search for the robe he held in his hand.  It was typical, he had been waiting for her for over ten minutes.  Only Granger could be so inconsiderate, he ignored the simple fact she had no idea that he had been sent to London to find her.

He had been dancing with My when he heard the clock strike the hour, he didn't care, one more dance with My would be worth spending the night in the dark alley waiting for the castle lockdown to be over.  Finally My seemed to notice the time and her face paled in the heavy red light, after a breif kiss, her lips brushing over his, sending electrical sparks down his spine, he watched her run down the street disappearing into the darkness.  He still had twenty minutes until four.  Walking into the men's restroom he ducked into one of the stalls and apperated into the dark alley that smelled like the dungeons of his childhood.  Activating the portal, he stepped through and entered to a Hogwarts he wasn't used to seeing, an almost totally silent Hogwarts.  Now he simply had to wait for Granger to show up, hand her the school robe and make her answer a few questions.

The summer had adjusted his biological clock to operate on only two or three hours of sleep, he had no idea of Grangers tolerance for sleep depervation.  He didn't care.  My was in London and if he wanted to be with her, the issue of the past had to be dealt with.

His fathers abuse

Mother's mysterious death

Voldemort

Finally, his father's final hours.  As badly as Lucius hurt him, Draco still remembered the hero worship of his early childhood, even for the first few years of Hogwarts, until he began to see his father for what her truly was, a monster.  He needed Granger to help him understand what happened.

After he understood he could forget about the trauma of his past and possibly apologize for the pain he may of caused her in the six years they knew each other.

The time crawled by, even My's face dancing in front of him, could prevent his temper getting frayed in the thick silence of the sleeping school.  The euphoria of his dance had drained totally for his system by the time he heard the grinding of the portal.  He waited until she was totally in the school, he may have not known the full details of the events in the crystal cave, but even he knew it was better not to startle the now skittish girl.

"Looking for this Granger?"  The girl turned, chocolate hair swirling around her.

Drake's stomach dropped to his feet, gorge rose.  It was--

It was My.

He watched her face pale to an unhealthy white.

Hesitantly he stepped out of the shadows, closer to her, "My?"

The girl sank to the ground, a litany of hysterical "No's" dropped from her pink lips.  He stepped closer to the rocking girl, was this broken creature really his My?  The concept was too large.  He couldn't comprehend it, didn't want it to be true.

He placed a hand on her shoulder

She looked up.

Silver to gold.

Amber to gray.

The amber blinked first.  "Drake?"    Her voice held the promise of tears.  "No, No, No, No, Not my Drake.

"Please, Please don't be my Drake."  She placed a hand on his cheek.

It burned.

He never noticed before how brightly and how warmly she burned.

"Please don't be my Drake.  I'm not--  I can't."  She rose from the floor and began to back away.

"My," Drake's heart was resting in his throat.  My and Granger?  "Hermione?  I-- I just can't--"

"No you're not him.  You can't be.  I won't let you."

"My--"  Drake's heart fell to the floor and shattered.

"NO."  Hermione ran.

Drake remained glued to the floor, hands still clutching the Gryffindor robe.  Tears stood on his cheeks sparkling the candlelight.  He studied the gold and crimson emblem and tried to understand.  Tried to figure out how he could have avoided it.  How could he have been so stupid as to believe in love?

Love was an old wives tale.  A myth.  My was a myth, Granger and death was the reality.

Drake bent his head, shaggy hair falling forward.  He remembered the first night, the hunger he felt looking at the unknown dancer.  The call she exerted over him.  Now he realized it.  It was the call of power, a summons of one power to another.  Magic will always call to magic.  He could feel her body and he remembered the instant kinship he felt towards her, after looking into amber eyes.

Her haunted, guarded, wounded eyes that mirrored his own.  Now he knew his eyes were the result of years of fatherly attention, and hers, hers were the result of one night of rage and what would be a lifetime of regret.

How could this be?  He loved her.  Somehow it was a joke of the gods, a twist in Fate's thread.  The person he had to understand in order to live was the one person he had wanted to live for.

Unconsciously mimicking Hermione's motions a few minutes earlier Draco Malfoy sank to the ground and laughed.  

Laughed until he cried.

Cried until his eyes were dry and heavy.

Cried until he had nothing left.

There he sat.  Staring at the dusty floor and the trail of her footprints.  Running away.  Running away from him.

He stared at the dust until a hand touched his shoulder.  Drake looked up, eyes red rimmed and empty.  She, the one thing he lived for, didn't exist.  She was a lie.  He looked up into compassionate brown eyes.

"Come along Mr. Malfoy, breakfast is in a few hours."  McGonagall's soft brogue echoed through Drake's ears, for once commanding more tears, not the usual contempt for the Scottish teacher.

The strict teacher led the boy down the hall one hand on his shoulder.  Down into the dungeons to the entrance of the Slytherin common room.

"He shall rise."  McGonagall's voice echoed down the dark corridor.  Together they entered the drafty room.  "Go to your dormitory Mr. Malfoy, you may gbe able to get a few hours of sleep.  I expect to see you at breakfast and in transfiguration.  I disapprove of this venture, but as both your head of house and the headmaster approve, I don't have the right to object.  Go to bed Draco.  It won't be so bleak in the morning."  Drake walked forward as stiff as an automaton, shock waylaying the natural grace of his body.

Dead silver eyes looked down at her from the third stair.  "Yes they will Professor."

*~*~*

McGonagall watched the boy walk up the stairs, her eyes glistening; she had never thought to see the day that a Malfoy appeared so broken.  She watched the empty staircase and waited until she felt two people come up behind her.

Making sure Draco had gone all the way up the stairs she turned around to face the two men.  She looked them up and down, taking in their slightly ruffled clothing and glared.

The white bearded man chuckled.  "Another chick to mother Minerva?"

"Shut up Albus."  The twinkling in his eyes only grew as Snape's expression grew darker at the thought of a Gryffindor looking after one of his Slytherins

"So it has happened?"  His velvety voice wrapped his concern in silky condensation.

'Aye, took it poor, found out right after London.  The pair of fools."  Her eyes narrowed and she turned the disapproving glare that made student cry on her two errant co-workers.  "How dare you?  You allowed them to go to London after hours?  What if something had happened to them?  I simply cannot believe you."  She began to lecture the two men, leaving the common room, obviously expecting them to follow her.  "What is the matter with you?"  The trio walked away to the teachers' quarters, her scolding voice echoed down the hallway.

*~*~*

In the Slytherin dorms behind a forest green bed hanging, Draco sat.  He stared up at the ceiling through unblinking eyes.  Thought of her and their past together ran endlessly through his head.  A video projection of his years of tormenting the girl his soul cried for ran in front of his open eyes, refusing to be banished even as he closed them.  Deep inside of his head he tried to figure out a way to fix things, to fix his heart.  He wouldn't go near her, his heart longed for her too much.  He would give up dancing.  Then he could be safe from her and the maelstrom of emotions that she elicited.   Dancing had been at one time an escape from family pressures and troubles, now it was to intimate.  It was the very essence of everything that was My.  When they danced together it was a joy, a release.  He transcended the problems in his heart and melded with the music.  In music he could forget the sight of his mother's unseeing blue eyes, caked with blood, the single trail of blood running down her cooling cheek, a sinister tear.  He could forget about his father's icy voice.

_"She slipped on the stair."  A cold hand on the shoulder of a fifteen year old boys shoulder.  "She was clumsy and stupid.  Don't make her mistake."_

In the music he could forget about the room in Malfoy manor filled with blades and whips, forget about the lash scars on his back.  Forget about the beatings and the pain, for get the breaking and eventually the acceptance it was all Draco's fault.  Now music wasn't the same.

Now--

Music meant dance and dance meant My.

My was Granger

Who set his free

Who ran away from him

Who lied to him

Who is all he wanted

Who is a person he could no longer ever have.

He had been ready to give it al up for My, the wounded muggle, but for My alias of Hermione Granger

Her he could never touch.  

Never again go near.

Now more so than in New York he knew My was well and truly lost to him.

*~*~*

My stared at his face.  It was him.  The man she was convinced would help her save herself, who set her free, who took her beyond her problems to a better place of heat and him and the beat.

It was a face well known

Well Loved

And now,

Well remembered.

She remembered a face she associated with safety taunting her, calling her filthy names, hexing her, spending six years tormenting her.  Then his childish likeness was overshadowed by his face in thirty years frozen by hate and a strong feeling of superiority, contorted in pain, body wreathed in flames, calling for his son.

No

It couldn't be.

She wouldn't let it.

Drake was needed.

She needed him almost as much as she needed the dance, the escape.

The escape from his own fathers dying cry

Maybe it wasn't him.  She reached out a hand, laying it on a familiar cheek.  She knew.  Could feel the rage and overwhelming pain she had felt before, could remember the feel of his head flying back from her slap in third year.

It was him.  All around her she heard a voice begging for him not to be Drake.  Drake was necessary, and Draco was untouchable, she was unworthy of breathing the air he breathed.

It couldn't be true, she wouldn't let it be.  He couldn't be.

Drake and Draco

They wouldn't be, couldn't be the same person.

NO, NO, **NO**, **NO**.

All around her the voices echoed until she realized, realized it was her own voice screaming no.

She looked once more into his eyes.  So familiar, confused but rapidly recognition and understanding was dawning.

She felt tears spill down her cheeks.  Heard his voice questioning.

"My?"  felt her heart crumble, knew this was the end.  She didn't have the right to go near Draco, let alone dance or be with him.  Looking at those eyes she knew, she knew she had to leave.

And she ran.

*~*~*

For the second time that night she ran, breathe ragged, hair flowing and eyes blurred by tears.

Somewhere her boots lay in a corner, they slowed her down.  Speed is what she needed, needed to get away to consider her options to figure out her problems.

Drake was Draco

Draco was untouchable

Drake was needed

Draco was untouchable

What was she supposed to do?

Throughout the school a vicious "Fuck" echoed throughout the stone halls.  Another piece of gossip for the school to delight in.

My forced herself to stop.

She swallowed hard.  Inhaled deeply.  Took her emotions and caged them in.  Tried to ignore the building heat beneath her skin, to ignore the crackling of flames, a steady counterpoint to the beating of her heart.

Standing in the middle of the hall she closed her eyes, tried to force down all of the emotions that echoed in her soul.  

She slowly walked towards the Gryffindor Tower as the cries she had been trying to block out filled her ears.

Tonight the dancing hadn't been enough

The Fat Lady let her into the tower with a sniffle and a muttered, "My Child."

The common room was the same.  Warm embers burned in the hearth, and the remains of a party decorated the floor and the table.

For the high windows early dawn light filled the tower room.  On the wall next to the 'Welcome Back Gryffindor' banner was a picture of herself, under it a muggleborn had lit a candle.  It was as if she was dead, but then maybe she was.  My stared at the portrait to her new room, trying to organize rampant and confusing thoughts.

Closing her eyes she focused on the steady beat of her heart, a steady throb that echoed through her ears.  She paused, slowed her thoughts to calm.  The beating of her heart drowned out the voices and the picture of Drake--

Draco's broken face.

All she needed to consider now was sleep.  To prepare to go to classes.  Her shoulders slumped without her robe people would see her, stare, judge.  Only one person was allowed to judge her and he would never go near her again.

She tried to remember where she had left her robe, and realized.

In his hand.

Drake's image built in her mind; standing waiting for her, robe in hand, only to be overlaid by Draco of fifth year.  Arrogant, angry, and spoiled.

Why her?

My's mind traveled from sorrow and confusion to anger.

Why the hell was she chosen?

First to become a member of the golden trio, to loose them, her parents, the respect of teachers, and finally when she tried to help her one-time friends she lost her innocence.

Silver eyes filled her mind.

Sad and guarded

Angry and confused

Empty and listless

Excited and free

The influx of emotions in his eyes matched her.  The conflict she felt everyday stared back at her.

Of all the petty things that happened to her in the last three years he was the worst.  

And the best

His silver eyes found hers

Saved her from the edge.

Their dance kept her from the roof of her apartment building in New York.  Their dance helped her to rediscover emotions that the Crystal cave deadened with horror.

Now he to was lost.

The pain in his eyes; she put there.

The man she loved was the boy she had despised.  

Who despised her.

Had always made her life hell for no other reason beyond the circumstances of her birth.  Now however, he had a reason.

He knew

It was her that ended his father's precious life.

My rested her head against the wall.  She didn't belong in Gryffindor.  She had run.  Run away from before he could revert to Malfoy form.  Before her savior could cease to be and her tormentor would return.  She hated Voldemort for making her a murderer.  She hated herself for being weak.  She hated Dumbledore for making her return.

Hermione could feel the heat that simmered underneath her skin rise, increase even.  She whispered the password to her new room and inhaled.  Bracing herself against the newly revealed doorframe, she tried to calm herself, she didn't want to repeat the event of the crystal cave, and she could feel the anger rising along with the flames.  She closed her eyes and tried to hypnotize herself with the beating of blood in her ears.  

Just as she felt herself relax she heard a strange noise from the common room and followed it.  Sitting on a chair, lost in the shadows with his feet propped up on the messy table sat Ron, fast asleep.  My walked towards him carefully, and noticed his blotchy face and tear tracks.  Reaching behind him she grabbed a discarded Gryffindor robe and spread it over his long legs.  

She turned back towards the entrance to her new room and came face to face with emerald eyes.

Harry.

She stepped back.  Why hadn't she realized that he would be here?

Without saying a word she tried to get closer to her room, away from the face of her friend.  Away from one she had at one time considered a brother.  

He was to fast for her.

His Quidditch trained hand caught her wrist in a gentle hold.  

"Hermione, Please."  His eyes were wounded, begging her to listen to him.  "Please we have to talk."

_Later Days_

_A/N::  Sorry this chapter took so long to get out, real life interveaned.  Think of this chapter as a late Valentine's Day gift from me to you._

_Please remember that if you have any comments please review, I like to hear if the quality of my writing is at a consistent level._

_Thanks to those that did review…and if you like the Power of Dance read The Ring(there is no harm in advertising)… Have a nice week and I hope chapter nine won't take as long as chapter eight._

_Mystykitty _


	9. Conversations

Power of Dance

Chapter 9

Conversations

(A/N:: Standard disclaimer applies)

_Previously: "Hermione please," his eyes were wounded.  "Please we need to talk."_

My drew a deep breath and looked at the sleeping Ron.  Knew she didn't need him waking up as well.

"Harry, I don't have the strength for this shit right now.  I'm tired, its been a very long day and--"

"Please this bloody well can't wait."  She felt her resolve weaken, after Drake-

Draco

All she wanted to do was sleep.

"I am going to change, if you follow I won't try to stop you."  She walked past him, pulling her heavy up, revealing the cut away back of her top and the tattoo between well-defined shoulder blades.  Harry's heart caught at the sight of the tattoo. It was their last bonding attempt before things fell apart.  He placed a hand over his arm, felt warmth radiating from the wizard tattoo.  He was distracted from his melancholy memories by the sight of Hermione's body so prominently on display, as she walked through the painting's doorway.  Her tiny frame was no longer covered in oversized jumpers, knee lengths skirts, and baggy pants.

Now her short legs were made longer by the shiny black of vinyl pants, grommets down the seam showing her pale skin.  The plastic fabric hugged her back end, emphasizing the curve of her hips, the etherealness of pale skin.  Her top was a black lace corset top ligting her high breasts, tucking in an already tiny waist.  It cut in the back, held together by an erotic crisscrossing of lace ties.  Harry's gorge rose at the thought of anyone looking at Hermione in this get-up.  He was glad Ron missed it, he would be unable to keep in the rage at the sight of their friends body.  He tried to rearrange his broken thoughts, to tell her he was sorry, that he loved her and hoped that with time she would forgive him.

Them

The instant she took off her corset top his thoughts shattered again.  Hermione reached behind her and pulled the tie of her top and allowed it to slip to the floor.  She reveled in the feeling of cool air on her heated skin and turned towards her closet.  She bent and unbuttoned the vinyl pant, slipping them down her legs, leaving her in the room, wearing a simple pair of black lace panties unconcerned with Harry's presence.

He was shocked; the Hermione he knew would never walk around in front of a man with no cloths.  The Hermione he knew wouldn't wear such suggestive cloths.

"Where were you tonight?"  He kept his eyes on the carpet, watching the vinyl pants as though they were going to rise up and attack him.

"I was dancing."

Dancing

Harry felt anger rise, they had spent the whole day wondering, waiting, worrying about her.  She went--

She went dancing

She wasn't Hermione anymore.  It was as though she was lost under the vinyl, lace and eyeliner.  He wondered if she even wanted to be found.

If he could bring her back.  If she should be brought back.

"Where is Hermion under all of this?"  Harry gestured at the discarded cloths on the floor.  "Under the vinyl and the tiny tops, where did my best friend go?"

"She died Harry.  She died a slow and painful death ending in a wave of flames."  Harry shook his head, disagreeing; he had to make her understand.  He opened his mouth and shut it again as she shook her head it him sadly.  She pulled a long sleeved tee shirt on over tiny frame.  Harry winced as he saw ribs shift under thin pale skin.

She was still too skinny.

"Hermione began to die the day the only thing she felt like she could control was her weight.  For an anal obsessive compulsive, the feeling that she had no control, no way to help you or Ron when the Death Eaters held you captive, was horrible, she had to control something.  She died when you got girlfriends and left her alone.  When you turned away from her.  When her parents died and all she received from her best friends was a distracted sympathetic pat on the back.  She died when she realized her ex-best friends ran away from the safety of the castle to battle Voldemort and didn't want her help.  She died that night in the cave watching Ron's broken body struggle to stay alive.  She died in a wave of fire and screams.

"There is nothing left of Hermione Granger.  There is only My."  She drew a deep breath and all around them the candles and the fire in the hearth went dead.   "My is all that's left."  Harry walked towards the sound  of voice, eyes slowly adjusting to the blackness only broken by the predawn light filtering into the room.

"Who is My?"  His voice was rough as he tried to overcome the pain he felt at every word she had spoken.

"My is all that's left.  The shell that's struggling not to crumble, trying to talk louder, dance harder.  Trying to drive away the voices."  Harry closed his eyes and felt tears roll down his cheeks.  Her pain filled the room, the guilt and anger, confusion and anguish so strong it left the taste of despair on Harry's tongue.

A tiny scratch at the back of his mind crew his attention, he couldn't identify it.  He inhaled and released the shields around his mind.

The room disappeared.

HE saw Hermione running fingers over exposed ribs and feeling fat.  Saw her left on the outside of an insurmountable wall and he and Ron bonded over girls and teenage lust.  Watched as she stood alone at her parent's grave, a white daisy in her hand.  The chirping of birds became a cold imperious laughter of Voldemort as a bleeding Ron lay at his feet. He felt her fear for them.  He watched a curse hit himself in the back he felt her anger.  He felt a wave of red heat curl around her, and felt the almost maternal anger grow to rage.  He watched as she challenged the Death Eaters and felt the fire flow from her fingertips.  Heard the screams and the pleas for mercy.  He heard Malfoy's cry.

And then there was black.

When he woke up a beam of orange light reflected into his eyes.

Sitting up quickly he looked around.  Curled up in a ball on the bed was Hermione, her eyes wide open, expression dead.

"I told you Hermione was dead.  She died in a wave of flames.  When did you learn legilimency?  It isn't polite to rape someone's mind without permission."  She pulled her knees closer to her chest, and moved her head to a place on the pillow that wasn't soaked in salty tears.

Harry walked closer to her bed and stopped at the edge.  "I learned legilimency this summer at 12 Grimmuald Place, with Snape."  He reached out a hand and brushed back a lock of hair, then climbed onto the bed with her, fitting his long body against hers.  He wrapped an arm around her waist pulling her closer.  The heat she emitted wasn't normal, but it was welcome.  The memories she lived with everyday chilled Harry to the core.  "I don't care about manners.  I love you too much to lose you.  Hermione went away because of stupidity.  I'll get to know My and I refuse to loose her as well."  He let her feel his tears and pressed his chin into the top of her head.  "I'll never loose her."  Together, drained of emotions, brown and green eyes closed, and they slept.

*~*~*

"They aren't going to classes today are they Albus?"

"No Minerva they aren't.  There is more to the story and there is more healing to be done.  Alert the teachers, and excuse them this is important, I refuse to allow a brilliant witch to loose everything to Voldemort after he is dead.  The relationship between Harry and Miss Granger must be repaired.  Oh, and excuse Mr. Weasly as well.  I feel this will be resolved today."

"Of course Albus."

*~*~*

The two people woke up well after breakfast and the first two classes were finished.  My felt his breath warm and comforting on her neck.  Reluctant to leave the comfort of Harry's warmth, My knew she had to, had to make him leave before he broke through her shields.  She pulled away and walked to her wardrobe, putting on faded jeans and a pale yellow jumper.

"My?"  Harry's tentative voice startled her, making her spin in the direction of the voice.  All around the room things caught fire.  The fire in the hearth, and all the candles burst into an intense light, and tears spilled from My's eyes.  "Oh shit."  He walked over to the crying girl and wrapped his arms around her.  "We will figure this out My.  I swear it."  Harry felt her relax in his arms; he could feel the tension in her body leave the room.

"Oh gods Harry, I am not strong enough for this.  My shields are shattered and I don't know if they can be repaired.  First last night, and then the fire."  My's eyes filled with tears and she sank to the floor.  Harry watched as his best friend focused on a sound only she could hear.  He watched her body relax and her spine stiffen and straighten.  She stood up, already Harry began to feel nervous.

"What are you doing here Harry?"  She walked around the room, picking up the scattered cloths she had thrown on the floor.  "I don't need you anymore.  I don't need anyone."  Her heart ached as a pair of silver eyes filled her mind.  "Please leave me alone."

Harry's heart clenched in his chest.  "What about last night?  I saw how much you needed us.  You need us as much as we need you."  He inhaled, allowing some of his tightly controlled emotions free.  "And we do need you.  Not to do our homework or to be our mother but we need your company.  You are the better half, the heart of two different people and we've gone crazy without you."  He paced around the room, back and forth, keeping Hermione from reaching the room and escaping into the castle.  "I saw you lay the robe over Ron, I saw the tenderness in your face, even if you didn't know that it was there.  Did you see the tears on his cheeks?  He cries himself to sleep at night.  He's been doing it since you disappeared.  At first it was guilt that you had to save us."  He narrowed his eyes at the girl in front of him.  "He turned the crystal cave into his own personal mistake.  Every thing was his fault.  It took his almost two months to accept that it wasn't.  But he missed you.  Needed you.  The Weasley's need you.  Fred anf George closed WWW for a month combing England for you.  Molly cried for a week and couldn't leave her bed.  McGonagall cancelled her sixth year exams, the idea of you not being there to ace them was to painful for her.  You turned the entire wizarding world on its axis, with your deeds and your disappearence.  You were inducted into the order of Merlin.  First Class."

My turned away from him.  Refusing to allow him to see the tears spilling down her cheeks.

"So what Harry?  Why does it matter?  I was alone in the hospital wing when I woke up, with fire scorched retinas and screams in my ears.  I was alone.  You and Ron abandoned me.  I feel badly for the pain Mrs. Weasley experienced, but pity for Ron?  I refuse.  It has taken me months of work to get to a place where I can simply exist.  To talk, to eat, to breathe, to dance."

"Dance?"

"Yes Harry, dance, the only thing keeping me sane.  The music, the beat.  I can step outside of my self, away from the pleading voices and I become something else.  Something bigger.  Dance saved me from killing myself.  From stepping off the roof of my apartment building or walking into traffic.  Dance is all that I had, all I wanted to think about."

"That's a lie."  She spun to face him, saw him unbutton his dress shirt.  "You thought of us.  Of me at least once."  He showed the shirt she constructed for him.  "I ran a diagnostic spell on it, I know the work that went into it, the strength that you expended to make it.  Admit it.  You thought about me, about us, about my safety."

"It almost killed me Harry."  She looked away ashamed to look at him.  "Channeling my magic and controlling it hasn't ever been this hard even before I knew I was a witch it was easy.  Now I fear to shrink something, it might blow up.  Making your shirt almost killed me, and I would have welcomed death.  Magic was my joy growing up, now I can't do it, and dance is all that I have left."  She paced around him, allowing herself to talk.  To tell him exactly how she felt.  What was happening to her.

"I was in New York with my hideous second cousins, who only took me in for a possible inheritance from my dead parents.  They never said anything but derogatory and hurtful things about me and my parents.  But I wasn't alone.  Oh no.  I carry the dying voices of 70 evil evil evil people.  They drive me, taunt me, and torment me.  Make me as low as I belong.  Now those voices are all I have left.  I spent the worst months of my life alone except for those voices.

"I was left all alone by you, by Ron, by my parents, Dumbledore, the Weasley's.  I was alone and not a single attempt to find me was made."

"That's shit Hermione."  Harry began to pace around the room once again.  "**_We never tried to find you?_**  You ran away in the middle of the night, like a thief.  Bill and Charlie had to hold Ron in his hospital bed when he found out you were gone.  Gred and Forge checked every small village you had ever touched.

"Ron wrote a letter to you every day that you were gone, sending it into the ether, hoping the owl would find you.  The only one who knew where you were was Dumbledore and he flat out refused to tell me.  To tell us.

_'It is safer for her to be gone Harry.'_

"I went to him every day.  Begging him to let me find you.  My hero sense was on fire.  I needed to find you, help you.  I knew I would never repay the life debt that I owed you, that the whole wizard world owes you, but I still needed to help you.  He refused to tell me.

_'I'll keep her safe Mr. Potter.  She is doing well.'_

"As the summer progressed I learned occulemency and legilimency since you told me to.  It kept me closer to you.  I learned to scry for you.  I passed my eye over all of England.  You where nowhere.  Ron kept on writing letters, everyday.  And when the owls returned them, unopened, he kept them.  Kept them in a box to give you the next time he saw you again."

"I don't believe you."  Her voice was a whisper.  For the first time in months the voices of the dead were silenced by the sounds of childish laughter, as memories of Ron and Harry ran through her mind.  "Ron wouldn't have time to write to me each day.  Morag took up all his time, just like Hannah took up yours."

"Hermione I love you dearly, but by the end of sixth year you were so consumed by your pain, school, exercise and starving yourself, you didn't notice what was going on around you.  Ron and Morag broke up the day after you found out about your parents died.  He wanted to be free to help you.  And you didn't even feel him holding your hand as you cried.  And Hannah and I?  We broke up well before your parents, you just never found out.

"You say you were all alone?  Who's arms do you think held you when you had nightmares?  Told Dumbledore about a nutritionist to help you?  Has placed fresh flowers on your parent's grave every week since it happened?  We have.  We love you.  You complete us and I refuse to let you go."

"I'm sorry Harry, Hermione is gone.  Tell Ron he was writing to a dead woman."

Harry felt ill.  He still couldn't get through to her.  She didn't understand and he had no more words.

"Tell him your self Hermione.  After you read these.  _Accio letters_ I can't handle this anymore."  Harry flung open the portrait door in time to catch a heavy box.  Placing it in My's arms he turned and faced the door.  "I love you Hermione Granger.  I just hope you realize that eventually."  He walked out, back stiff.

Hermione sank to the floor and opened the box, unsure of what she would find.

*~*~*

"Harry?"  Ron's voice broke through the self-pity, anger, and self-loathing that Harry was swimming in.  The depth of his best friends pain overwhelmed him.  He was furious at her refusal to accept their love and apologies, and disgusted by the need he had for her to forgive him.

"She's fucked up Ron."  The lanky redhead sank into a chair across from the dark haired youth.  "It was worse than the intervention, worse than her breakdown at her parents death.  She claims Hermione is dead."  His voice grew quiet, and he rested his head in his hand, the other one running over a pale scar.  "She says Hermione is dead, and I fear she might be right."

"Harry."  Ron's deep voice was worried, his best friend kept talking, voice monotone and shocked.

"What damage happens to a person when you command a fire that kills seventy people?"

"It saved us Harry."

"Were we worth it?  Were we worth the sanity and soul of our best friend?  She was the closest thing I have to a family, my surrogate sister."

Ron's voice was quiet.  "No, my life isn't worth hers.  I just hope she believes me.  But I'll wait for her to come to me."  Ron stood up and walked over to the phoenix painting and sat on the floor.

Waiting.

*~*~*

Hermione sat on the floor in her room, tears streaming down her face.  All around her letters.

Letters from Fred and George, from Ginny, from Harry, but mostly from Ron.

A letter for everyday that she was gone.

A letter simply explaining his day.  Explaining how he felt.  Explaining how much he missed her.

May 25

Dear Hermione--

School is nearly over and things a dreadfully dull without you.  I have already begun to prepare for exams, without you here to pester us about studying I find that I still hear you telling me to study, to color code all of my notes.  You're in my head, and I miss the real you so much I have to listen to the inner Hermione.  I might actually pass potions this year.  I love you and miss you.

Ron

June 12

Hermione--

Neville blew up another cauldron today during the potions final.  Snape turned purple with pink hearts.  I think Neville did it on purpose.  It was the first real laugh Gryffindor had since you left.  We all miss you and wish that you would return.

Ron

July 21

Dear Hermione--

I cleaned the burrow today, from top to bottom.  Unknown to us, Harry secretly paid for a total remodel of our home.  I was so mad I gave him a black eye, but Mum was so happy I couldn't stay angry for long.  Anyway, the stairs don't creak and it no longer looks like it's going to fall down.  I wish you could see it.  I miss you.

Ron

August 30

Hermione--

I packed for school today.  My NEWT prep books are tucked away at the bottom where no one else can see them.  Nobody knows where you are except Dumbledore.  I asked but he would tell me where you where, not even so you could get my letters.  I wish you would come back.  Your friends don't care about the Crystal Cave.  You remember us… the shirt you sent Harry was amazing.  But you would have been a better present.

Love--Ron

August 30

Who the hell do you think you are?  My heart hurts waiting for you.  Yes I hurt you I don't deserve you.  You ought to have brilliant friends that you can intellectualize with.  But you have me.  You saved me.  I need you back again.  Where the hell are you?  I don't think that I can live you gone much longer.  Please

Please

Please

Please come back to me.

Ron.

PS-- This is my last letter, after this I realize that if I can't convince you to forgive me I am not worthy of the friendship that you lay at my feet in first year.

I guess this letter is goodbye.

My's throat closed with pain.  There was a letter for everyday; each one telling about his day, about he loved her, about how he needed her to be ok.  And then the last one.

An ultimatum.

It was her choice.

And she knew what she had to do.  What she had to choose.

*~*~*

Ron felt the portrait swing open, and jumped to his feet.  Standing there the two friends waited, Ron was anxious, his 6'3 frame seemed to tower above Harry's compact 5'10 body as he giggled his legs, tapped his foot.

From the portrait walked Hermione, her fire kissed hair in a plait hanging in a heavy rope down her back.  She looked up into Ron's blue eyes and saw herself in the tears in his eyes.

"Ron" Her voice was soft.  "I wish I had gotten your letters before.  Especially the last one."  She walked forward and wrapped her arms around his waist tears flowed down her cheeks.

Harry walked closer and she pulled him in as well.  They stood together, a close bond that was weakened but not broken.

The Golden Trio reunited.

 As she felt the strong arms around her she wondered.  Maybe things might be all right after all.

*~*~*

"Are they going to come to dinner Albus?"

"I hope so, however, if things get to uncomfortable, I may have to step in with an announcement."

"Alright Albus, see you at dinner."

*~*~*

My felt safe.  For the first time in months, she felt safe.  Ron's lively discourse on the pros and cons of the Hogwarts library cataloguing system made her laugh.  It also showed her how much her friends had grown up.

She felt Harry slip an arm around her shoulder while Ron placed her arm in his.  Then she heard it, the sounds of children heading to dinner.  Panic gripped her, her feet stopped and she felt the blood leave her face.

"Hermione."  Harry's voice broke through her panic.  "We won't let any one hurt you."

She looked both boys in their eyes and whispered, "Just don't let me hurt them."  Above her head the young men met eyes and silently agreed to her request.

Flanking her, protecting her from curious eyes.  They walked into the Great Hall, Ron's bawdy story about Fred and George's twenty first birthdays, was drowned out by the curious whispers and speculations.  

As they approached the Slytherin table My felt a pair of empty gray eyes peer into her, even as she felt Harry and Ron tighten their grip.  She could feel hostile eyes glare at her, judge her.

She straightened

Shrugged off her protectors and stayed strong.  

Gray eyes met amber and the world stopped.

Not a single word was exchanged but the school felt the impact of the emotional storm that lay beneath the surface of the staring contest between mudblood and Malfoy.

My knew that she had one more conversation to conduct before she could sleep, but she knew it wouldn't happen, now that he knew this was as close as she would ever get.  Ron and Harry's gentle push broke her gaze and she was led to the silent Gryffindor table.

*~*~*

Drake watched her walk in.  Felt his blood heat at the familiar way Potter was touching her.  It was as though My was gone, and the limpid dependant Hermione was all that was left.

All around him the Slytherins glared at the bitch that was the cause of all their problems.  He watched as their words reached her.

As she stiffened.

Shrugged off her bodyguards and stared.

He met her eyes and emotions overwhelmed him.

Gray to amber,

He could have stayed locked in her eyes forever.  He felt let down as the boy-dunder broke her gaze and ushered her to the waiting Gryffindor students.

"Malfoy.  Congratulations on scaring the shit out of her."  Zabini's voice echoed through Drake's mind.  He shrugged off a familiar hand on his shoulder.

He knew it wasn't over.

They still had a conversation to conduct.

His eyes bore into her back.  

He watched as one by one the people that had abandoned her welcomed her back.  It was a silent and quasi-respectful hugs.

He glared.

Yet it wasn't over.

He might not be able to have her, but My still belonged to him.  Just like he belonged to her.

He knew it

She knew it.

*~*~*

"Things are going well Minerva."

"I hope you're right sir."

"Of course he is correct Professor, their eyes have been connected since she arrived with her bodyguards in tow.  They will not be able to stay away."

"Thank you for your confidence Severus."

"Your welcome sir," the silky voice, smug.

*~*~*

Harry watched her like a hawk, watched her move, her eat, her twitch.  He watched her greet her old friends with widened fearful eyes.  Watched her as she tried to ignore the curious stares.  Ignored the protective glares of Ron and Ginny, the outright hostility towards other tables when they attempted to approach her.  The Gryffindors were there for her.  Attempted to protect her from curious eyes. 

He leaned close to her ear; he didn't want anyone else to hear.

""My, dinner is ending soon.  In the halls we can't protect you.  Slip out before people notice."  She looked at him, panic warring with the anger at her weakness.

"I don't need you to protect me Harry."  Despite her words she rose and slipped out of the hall.

Her head ached.  She needed the dance.  The voices of Harry and Ron, the other Gryffindors and even Drake's hurt voice were battling with the cries of the death eaters.

She walked through the halls towards her room, cataloguing the clubs she knew of in London.  She needed the dance.  Needed to feel the embrace of the beat.

She hurried to her room, pulled on a simple black skirt and glam top, the black set in contrast with the red sparkles.  She pulled her heavy hair back into a sleek plait.  After carefully applying her make-up she closed the door to her room, and quietly slipped past her fellow dorm mates.  Walking down the empty halls she tried to focus on the fact Harry and Ron and herself were reunited.  They were going to work through everything.

She kept repeating Harry's works over and over again, even as she muttered the portal spell, as she walked through London streets in sling back red heels.

_"We'll figure everything out Hermione."_

Even his words disappeared as she approached Green light.  The heavy techno music seeped through closed doors. It was a Tuesday night, and she breezed through the glaring doorman into the familiar environment.

The haze of blue smoke and the echoing beat was so familiar, so comforting.

My took to the floor, tried to allow the music to transport her: to carry her to a place beyond the crystal cave, beyond Hogwarts, beyond her problems.

 And yet she couldn't.

There was something missing

Someone.

Each accidental touch, every comment in her ear, every blonde haired man was him.  He refused to leave her mind.

All around her people danced, revealed in the music, alcohol, and faint smell at lust.  Yet without him she couldn't, without his hands on her hips, the warmth of his chest, and the overwhelming power of his presence she couldn't.  She wanted him next to her, but he wouldn't come.  Tonight her wouldn't come and take her away.  She was a killer, and didn't deserve to be near him.

Now--

Now he knew it as well.

He had seen her with Ron and Harry.  Had seen without a doubt that My and Hermione Granger were one and the same.  

The thought stopped her.  Were My and Hermione the same?  The bookworm and the dancer?

She didn't know.

The feeling she was being watched broke her thoughts.  The feeling of eyes boring into her back made her turn.  She looked into a corner and connected with a pair of gray eyes.

They pulled her.  Magnetically drew her to this forbidden man.

She weaved through the crowd, most moving aside, the connection between the two people so strong, they could feel the need for the amber eyed girl and slate eyed boy to be together.

*~*~*

She stepped in front of him, looking up into his hooded eyes.

"You came."  Her voice was quiet, but her still heard each word clearly as though no one was there but him.

"I couldn't stay away.  I tried to.  I sat in my room all day.  Trying to purge you from my memory.  Trying to forget how good you feel in my arms, how I feel like I knew you, even though I obviously didn't.  I tried to make myself stop loving you I can't love you.  I shouldn't be anywhere near you.  You will be the end of me."  He reached up a hand as though to touch her face, only to pull it back to his side.  "But I couldn't stay away.  At nine I felt a pull, and it just kept getting stronger.   It pulled me from my room, through the halls.  It pulled me through the streets of London to here.  To see you dancing alone."  He broke eye contact for a moment before looking back in her eyes.  "It was wrong.  I could feel your body next to me, even as I watched you, needed you.  But I can't offer anything.  Will not offer anything."

"Drake."  She voice was quiet, empty of emotion.  "I wouldn't accept anything you offered, I wouldn't deserve it."  She took his hand in hers.  "But I'll offer you something.  The dance.  It's all I have.  All that I could ever dream of offering you."

"The dance"

"Just the dance.  While we are here we are Drake and My dancing.  There is no one else.  Nothing else, nowhere else but the here and now; the dance."

He closed his eyes and nodded.

"Just the dance.  Just tonight."

Together they danced.  The instant they hit the floor problems disappeared, and the music transported them far away to a world empty of fear and pain, where only the beat and each other mattered.

*~*~*

Much to soon the music ended.

The clock had struck three, and Hermione stood again in the dark alley staring at the blank wall that would bring her back to her problems.

Drake stood at her shoulders and watched the door with her, his eyes hooded and unreadable.

She whispered the incantation and stepped through the portal, she felt him walk through behind her.  Felt him wait as she slipped a school robe on over her clothes.

She turned to walk back to Gryffindor tower, when his voice stopped her.

"My, Hermione?  Do you-- Do you hate me?"

She stopped and felt something in her soul spark.

"No I don't hate you.  I don't think I ever have.  Do you hate me?"  Her voice had gotten soft and quiet.  She waited and felt the tension in the air between them.

"Gods above help me, I know that I should curse you to the ends my days, but I can't."  She could almost feel him running fingers through his hair.  "No, No I don't hate you."  She heard him walk away, from now on, that was the end.  From now on, they were outward enemies and the spark died.

*~*~*

Wednesday night had her back in London, trying to dance with a memory when a hand grabbed her waist.

She spun and there he was, hair pulled back, eyes both angry and hooded.

"Just the dance, just tonight."

She closed her eyes, and the tension she didn't know was there relaxed, "Just the dance."

And they did, each step showed his anger and desperation.  How can anyone be needed so much?  Wanted so badly?

So it continued.  Each day she tried to make it through classes, allowed Harry and Ron to protect her from the school.  Tried to develop relationships with younger students who revered the sad eyed girl.  Yet Harry and Ron, the sweet young children, couldn't protect her from the silent and hostile Slytherin stares.  Couldn't help the hole in her heart that grew each time Malfoy stared with blank eyes as Zabini whispered poison in his ears.

Yet at night he came to her, the same words in her ear.

_"Just the dance, just tonight."_

Together they danced at night and in the day they were silent adversaries in a war that should have ended.

The end of the evenings went the same way.  They entered the school and he waited while she put on a robe, each night it seemed like he was waiting to ask her something.  

She changed the pattern.  On the seventeenth of November she changed it, outside, a light layer of snow covered the ground and nothing seemed to keep her warm, she had to change the pattern that was wearing away at her sanity, just like the crying voices deep in the back of her mind.

She had just pulled no her robe and she felt him turn to leave.

"Drake?"  He stopped.  "His last thoughts were of you."

"Excuse me?"

"Your father.  He called for you."  Her voice hitched.  "He called for you at the end."

"Oh."  His voice was quiet.

She couldn't resist.  She turned and stood on her toes.  She pressed soft lips to the corner of his mouth; let him inhale her sweet crisp scent.

"I'm sorry Drake."  With that she left.  Left him standing alone in an empty hallway hand on his lips, wondering how he could love someone so much that even the fact that she killed his father, aunts, uncles, cousins.

"I'm sorry too Hermione."  He closed his eyes.  "Sorry I love you to much to ever let you go."

A/N::  Thanks to everyone that reviewed, they were wonderful and that's why it took me so long to post this chapter.  It took a lot of rewriting to even get to this point and I am not totally satisfied.  If anyone can spot any truly horrible things that changing would improve, review, email, instant message me and let me know I beg you.

Also special thanks to Blue Lady 1 who's review was number 200. She got me off my ass and on to my computer to type up this chapter.

To thank all of you for waiting so long and sticking with this story Chapter ten is called Truth and all secrets are revealed.  After it, most if not all things will be understood.  Including Hermione's new power, her and Drake's connection, and Harry and Ron find out about Drake and My's relationship.  

That's next time, so review, big even numbers seem to help me write faster…wink wink

Mystykitty.


	10. Truth

Chapter 10

The Truth

_A/N:: Not mine. JKR's_.

The old man sat at his desk feverishly reading a yellowed scroll.  At the trill of the firebird the man looked up.  His eyes, normally clear and sparkling were dull and pain filled.  He looked at Fawkes with sadness.

"You knew didn't you my friend."  He stroked his white beard.  "You knew right away what was wrong with her.  You recognized her."  The bird trilled again.

Softly.

Sadly.

"Minerva."  Albus Dumbledore spoke into the magically green flames dancing in his hearth.  He waited a few moments until the familiar face appeared.

"Albus? What is going on?"  She shook her disembodied head, the sharp movement not enough to dislodge the tight bun she always wore.  "I have a class of Gryffindors and Slytherins.  It is all that I can do to prevent Harry from killing any of his classmates for even looking in Miss Granger's direction.  Never mind that she is an attractive girl and the are adolescent males."  She huffed, the affront to her favorite student made her crabby and her Scottish brogue was even more apparent.  "Now what did you want?"

Albus shook his head, not even Minerva's mother hen antics could cheer him.

"Minerva, I found it."  The annoyance left the woman's lined face and fear replaced the irritated expression.  "Please report to my office, and collect Severus along the way.  We will be asking Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy to join us after we have discussed the ramifications of my discovery."

"Certainly Albus.  Right away."

Hermione sat ensconced between Ron and Harry as McGonagall spoke to the Headmaster in her office.  She could feel his eyes on her.  Those gray eyes filled with fire, trying to see into her soul.  It would happen tonight.  She had begun the process.  If he came to the dance she would tell him everything.

Everything.

Then it would all be over.

She looked up as the Professor entered the room.  She was pale and her eyes swept from My to Drake and back to the Gryffindor bodyguards.

"Class-- I have to meet with the headmaster.  As seventh years I expect you to return to your common rooms until your next class.  Please behave.  Now is not the time for arguments and petty disagreements."

My rose shaken by the near panic reflected in her favorite professor's eyes.  Both boys were by her side even as Pavarti and Lavender discussed the newest manicure secrets.  She gave a half smile, the girls mindless chatter was familiar and unchanging.  She glanced around at her peers, only to have her eyes meet the person that her bodyguards were trying to protect her from.  Once again their eyes locked, and the rest of the world faded away to the periphery.

She looked in his eyes and saw the anger, the confusion, the hurt, but most of all she saw love.  Even as he tried to disguise it.

"Tonight?"  He mouthed, counting on the class's confusion and general self-absorption to mask his actions.  He needed to know everything and he couldn't wait any longer.

She nodded.  "Everything."  She knew what he wanted and that she owed him the truth.

If only to make him see how low she truly was.

Ron's tug at her arm broke their silent exchange, even as Pansy snaked am arm around Drake's waist whispering poison in his ear.

The Gryffindors had her removed from the class room before she could see him shrugging off the thick arm and snarl at the unwanted girl.

Together they walked down the corridors and up into the Gryffindor common room.  She sat in a chair, an open book on her lap watching as first years struggled with homework and Ron and Harry played chess.  She could feel a sigh deep in her chest longing to come out.  The day was stretched out in front of her, long and dreary.  All she really wanted to do was to speak with Drake.  Tell him everything, make sure that he would understand why things happened the way that they did.

A loud 'pop' broke through her grim imaginings of their meeting.  She looked up, standing there looking nervous and unsure was a young house elf she had never seen before.

"Excuse me sirs, Misses.  Headmaster tells Twinky to get Miss granger.  Twinky is to tell her about a meeting with the Headmaster."  The elf wriggled his ears and nose, looked around nervously and whispered, "The password is gobstopper."  And with a final nervous quiver the house elf disappeared with a pop.

My's heart pounded painfully in her chest.  What has happened now?  What did the Headmaster want to tell her?  She stood and slowly walked towards the portrait, not even realizing how pale her face had become.  How shaken she looked.

Harry looked at her closely and felt the contentment that had built up over the last few months fade.  She looked ill.  Pale and worn as if the house elf had removed all of the meager life force she had accumulated since the 'trio' had been reunited.  It reminded him of how she looked that first night at dinner.  He wouldn't let her regress.  She was doing well.  He quickly stood up, not even noticing the cursing of the chess pieces as they fell to the ground.  He walked to her side with a sheepish look on her face. 

"My, I gotta go to the hospital wing.  I ah, I need a headache potion.  How about I walk with you."  His green eyes were blank.  They both knew he was lying through his teeth but she appreciated the lie nonetheless.  Ron simply stood waiting at the exit.  He was going, if only to wait outside the office and stand guard.  He was coming and there was no way, even if she tried to stop him that he was letting her leave the tower with him.

The trio walked down the halls listening to the sounds of a castle in use.  As they passed the hospital wing My forced Harry to go in, a quirky smile on her lips as she and Ron continued their way to the Headmaster's office, Harry's expletive loud enough that they both heard it behind them.

Finally they approached the stone gargoyle and stopped.  Next to them was Malfoy searching through his pockets cursing.

"Gobstoppers,"  My whispered, the gargoyle springing to life revealing the staircase.  Drake's head snapped up at the sound of _her_ voice and grating stone.  His gray expressionless eyes widened at the sight of her pale face.

"My."  The greeting was quiet, unconscious and unnoticed by either.

"Drake."

Ron narrowed his eyes at the two and knew something was going on.  In a way he was glad Harry had been forced away by his own lie.  He never would accept Hermione talking to Malfoy.

"Malfoy."  He kept his voice steady.  He hated the blonde haired man, but My was more important and he wouldn't risk her improvements for a tussle with Malfoy.  He wasn't worth it.  The man in question felt his eyebrows rise at the cold but polite greeting.  Was it possible that Weasly too had grown up over the last months?

"Weasly."  My looked back and forth inexplicably calm at the meeting of two enemies.

"My."  She started at the sound of Ron's voice.  "You should go up.  I'll wait for you here.  She nodded and walked up the stairs.

"I wouldn't touch her if you left Weasly."  Drake's voice was blank careful.  The next move in the game for peace was Weasly's.

"I know that you wouldn't."  Ron sounded vaguely surprised at his own statement.  "It isn't you I want to save her from.  So I'll be waiting even if you swore on your life not to go near her, not to ever let anything happen to her."

"That won't be necessary boys."  Madame Pomfrey's voice broke through the dual verbal and non-verbal discussion that the young men were having.  "Mr. Malfoy you are being waited upon up stairs and Mr. Weasly if you really have nothing to do but wait you can assist me in the infirmary."  Ron shrugged at Malfoy and then opened his mouth to speak.

"If I don't make it back to walk her to the tower--"

"I'll do it."  Somehow, one brown haired girl brought about a fragile truce between the Weasly and Malfoy families that had existed for nearly 150 years.  Ron shook his head at the though and followed Pomfrey as Drake walked up the stairs.

Drake walked up the stairs, he could feel his nerves increase the closer he was to the headmaster's office.  He wracked his brain, tried to figure out what he had done that was so wrong that it required a meeting with Dumbledore.  He could find nothing.  He had stayed out of trouble, the only things he did was school work and--

His dance with My.

He slowed for just a moment outside of the oaken door.  He inhaled deeply and tried to clear from his mind any thoughts of the dance, tried to block off how good she felt in his arms.  He had to be a blank slate, walking into a room with two mind readers and the scariest sane woman he had ever met.

He walked into the office and willed himself not the react to her presence, he would let nothing slip.  He looked up to be greeted with a subdued headmaster.  The usual inane twinkle was gone from his eyes.

"Please take a seat Mr. Malfoy."  Drake inhaled sharply, Dumbledore looked so old.  He walked forward and sat next to My, not even recognizing the other chairs in the room.

"Mr. Malfoy, Draco."  Snape's voice was unsettling.  It was tight with repressed emotions, it was distraught.  "Please have you studied your family history?"  Drake nodded, not noticing his hand approaching hers.  Snape continued.  "Please tell us everything you know about Lucien Malovious."

"Lucien?"  The headmaster nodded, while McGonagall simply looked at him, through him.

Drake's lip curled with scorn.  "Lucien was a fool.  A blunderer.  The reason the Malovious family splintered and was forced to flee France."  He glared at the wall.  "Lucien was never totally with it, the youngest son of a youngest son, he had nothing but the paltry sum of his allowance left to him by his great uncle.  He craved fame and fortune, but above all he craved what no self respecting Malovious would ever desire.  Lucien was madly deeply obsessively in love with a sixteen year old muggle girl from the local village near where he had made his home.  A devout Catholic she rejected his suit.  Not only did he actively practice magic, but she also thought he was insane.  In an attempt to impress her he told her his age.  He was three hundred.  In the day of his familial exile he research the nature of magic and time.  It proved beneficial he harnessed untested powers and accepted the gift of eternal youth.  He never grew any older.  But he did grow lonely.  He wanted someone to share eternal youth with.

"She rebuffed him for years.  She wouldn't risk her soul for him, at least until she turned 22 and the realized no other man dared approach her with the crazy lord interested in her hand.  So finally she agreed.  But only if she could somehow get magic as well."  Drake shook his head at the greed of the muggle girl, not only did she not stick to her principles but she  betrayed her morals.  "In order to satisfy the girls demand Lucien began to madly experiment.  He stole magical creatures and stripped away their life force, their magic and power.  Time and time again he failed, no creature would realize the amount of power required.  Then he lucked out in a sense.  He was searching the forest, and saw his salvation."  Drake paused and closed his eyes.  The gentle cough from Snape made him continue with his narrative.

"He searched the forest and found a female phoenix on a burning day.  He took it.  Took the bird from the nest of volcanic rocks and returned to his lab.  He cast his power leeching spell in the exact moment that the phoenix burst into flames, and the spell was corrupted.  As the phoenix body was no more the power was separated, but it was so much more.  It was the very essence of the phoenix.  The body was ash and the magic link between phoenix body and essence was severed leaving only power and spirit.

"Lucien took this new essence a fiery red ball of light to his love.  She lay asleep, a rosary clutched in her fist.  He aimed and the phoenix left his wand and settled over her chest before it sank in and took over, imbuing her with an unnatural red glow.  When she woke up, she had power."  He glared at the floor, caught up in the ancient family history so carefully recorded and imprinted in his brain.

"She hated it, hated him.  She demanded that he remove it at once, she called Lucien evil and begged him to remove it."

"And of course he refused."

Drake sighed at the disgust in McGonagall's voice.

"Of course he refused, he was an idiotic, stubborn man that violated every law that wizards had in those days.  More importantly he was a Malovious.  We have pride.  And taking back the essence, even if he could figure out how to do it, that was something he wouldn't do.   The muggle girl was forced to remain with him, though of course she was no longer a muggle and in her mind she was condemned to hell.  For years she stayed by his side, letting anger and hatred seep into her system.  Then the phoenix took over.  The girl became ill, began to burn up, touching her skin was like touching a stove top.  She cried tears of flame and her eyes burned like windows to the hell she feared."  Drake looked at the rapt faces around him.  "I am quoting the family journals here, I have no idea if this is the literal truth.  She didn't stay in such a state for long.   One day she simply exploded into a ball of flames.  The phoenix essence was released from an impure vessel, there was nothing keeping it anchored to the body that was decimated to ash.  So the orb disappeared, a human scream lingered in the air after the essence left, leaving nothing.

"Lucien was horrified.  He ran away to his castle and avada'ed as well as gutted him self.  The shame was to much.  The Malovious family splintered and fled to different corners of the globe.  My family faction took all of the journals and all the artifacts.  As soon as we reached the shores of England we changed our name to Malfoy and tried to forget about the phoenix essence and the pathetic miscreant that was Lucien."  His face contorted in a sneer as he finished the story of the ill-fated life of his ancestor.  Then he grew thoughtful.

"This is probably the first time any Malfoy has ever discussed this, the accounts of the others that cleaned up Lucien's mess was all the general public knew.

"Why have I revealed my families skeletons?"  He straightened, "I am not only the last full blooded Malfoy, I am the last Malovious, we are a dying family and I am the last."  Dumbldore could see the cogs in his brain shift, could see the workings of the intelligent man's brain.  "You found it didn't you.  The phoenix essence.  Where is she?  You cannot keep her from me, Malovious and the essence are bound, part of our power lies in the spell that brought the essence into existence.  She is part of me."  Drake didn't notice the stricken look on My's face, or the fact that during his speech he had grabbed her hand, and it was burning as hotly as a coal.

"Sorry Mr. Malfoy, we only think we know where the essence is."

"Where?"  Drake's voice was cold.  Dumbledore remained silent only glancing quickly at Hermione as she sat stock still in her chair.

Drake followed the gaze and his heart skipped a beat.  It couldn't be.  There was no anchor.  She would be gone.

"No."  His voice was cold.  "It can't be."  He pulled his hand from her and pulled out his wand and glared at the other people in the room.  "If you are wrong and this hurts her I'll kill each of you without magic and without fear of repercussions."

He began to mutter  words too low to fully understand with intent dark enough that even Snape didn't want to try.  Dumbledore, despite his unease tried to hear the cadence of the dark magic, and wondered where his student had learned such a spell.  Finally the air was humming, glowing and warping with a sinister sheen of magic.

"Revealio."  The shine speed through the air and spearheaded right through the nervous My.  An earsplitting wail echoed through the castle so high and intense that it was beyond human.

Drake stepped forward and cradled My's cheek in his cool hand.  "Wake-up my love," he crooned to the girl.  His voice unlike anything his professors had heard before.

My's eyes opened, gone were the amber gold eyes, replaced by fire.

She cocked her head in confusion.  "You are not Lucien.  Where am I?  When am I?"

"Who are you, why are you in this body?"

She looked up into gray eyes.  "I wanted it."

"That's not good enough.  Who are you?"

"I am Phoenix.  Or at least I was.  Now I am just a spirit."

Snape spoke dryly, "A spirit able to possess another."

The Phoenix lifted her hand and stared at the faint blue lines deep under the skin.  "This vessel works well enough I suppose.  So much sorrow.  So much anger."  The creature stretched.  "So much power."

"This is not your body to take.  It already has an inhabitant."

My's eyes narrowed at the gray eyed man.  The flames all around them danced higher.

"This body came to me, it was already marked as my own, I simply made use of it."  She glared at him, and the heat of the office grew oppressive.

"That is enough Mr. Malfoy."  Dumbledore's voice cut through the tension between the two.  "Phoenix why are you in this body?"

"It was easiest.  It was pure.  But hurt and afraid and worried but above all, it was angry.  From a crystal prison I watched as she grew angrier.  I watched as unconsciously she summoned a firestorm.  The anger and the fire pulled me from my prison into another.  I helped supply more power and I forced her to finish what she had the gall to begin.  Together, alone, we, I burned the dross that was polluting the cave."

Snape stiffened and fingered his arm through his long black robe.  Drake glared at the cause of his father's death.  He pulled his wand and whispered, "Finite."  My slumped, eyes closed.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

"I undid the spell, she is fine,"  His voice was cold.  "How ironic that the  Malfoy empire was brought down by what could be considered it's greatest triumph."  He slumped in the wooden chair, eyes blank unwilling to let his professors know how upset he was by the irony of his family in effect, destroying it's self nearly a thousand years in the future.

Dumbledore loosened the muscles in his neck.  "I knew it was something along these lines but I had no idea it was so serious.  There is no anchor."  He mused to himself, ignoring the glares from the other people in the room.  "I had thought she had been struck with the phoenix curse."  His eyes swept across the people gathered in the room.  "I was happy to see she was beating it.  The phoenix curse is loosely based on the fantastical story we just heard.  Except it is a curse.  A swish and flick of a wand and six dark elvish words is all that it takes to infect a magical creatures essence with flames.  To allow their power to grow to a point of invincibility and then it happens.

"They combust.  Just as a phoenix would only this is the victims final death, and from the accounts I studied the pain is unbearable.

"But this, this is beyond even the horror of dying from the phoenix curse."  He looked at his prize student, "you have another being resting inside your soul  and it is going to want control eventually."  His voice was calm but the power he held was a constant throb beneath his words.  His eyes weren't twinkling now.  He bent in front of the girl and waited, worry warring with impatience.  "Miss Granger."  She failed to respond, her features blank eyes focused on a spot far, far away.

He straightened from his crouched position, old bones creaking from the movement.  "Miss Granger.  I know you can hear every word."  She lifted her head and looked him in the eye.  "The phoenix essence merged with the soul of the muggle woman so long ago.  Each body or creature it has inhabited  has made the essence stronger and more powerful.  More sentient.  I love Fawkes, but he cannot communicate in the human sense.  This is beyond that.  We must find an anchor for you."  He frowned thoughtfully, "  We must find a way to link you to your body so that when the burning time comes, you will have a place to return to."  He rose, placing a gentle hand on both student's shoulders.  "Now we will leave you to discuss very important questions that you have been side stepping for far to long."

Dumbledore turned and left the office, McGonagall right behind him.  Snape lingered a silent mental battle warring behind liquid back eyes.

"Miss Granger."  His voice was cold and detached, eyes everywhere but her eyes.  "Miss Granger I know this will not help you overcome you self loathing and guilt that you have hidden under for half a year, but I need to tell you to salvage my own soul, and hopefully bring you back from the edge."  She looked up at him, black to amber.  "I am part of the dross burned from the crystal cave.  I was there.  I saw Ron being beaten, Harry being attacked from behind and I was powerless to stop it.  I was powerless to rescue you from the taunts and then the fire.  I had been revealed as a spy that night."  Draco's eyes widened at his head of house, both by the revelation and the first glimpse into what that night had been like."  Voldemort was very disappointed.  I lay broken, bloody and beaten waiting for the death I deserved, the death I earned from my actions so long ago.   Then my focal point as the groups entertainment was lost.  That was the moment that Weasley and Potter walked into the cave.  Arrogant and cocksure they strode in as though they were invincible.  Longing to get into the final confrontation that they were unprepared for.  I watched it all, prone unable to do or say anything unable to protect the students that I, as a teacher, am pledged to protect from harm. 

"By the time you appeared I thought that Weasley was dead, another name added to my list, and I thought Potter was well on his way.  "  He shook his loose fine hair, the candlelight caught the shine making his shaggy hair resemble an oil-slick.  "You appeared like an avenging angel.  A sick and damaged avenging angel.  Of course I added you to my list of sins, of innocents lost to the Dark Lord.  Then you snapped and the fires began."  He grabbed his arm, and My clenched her eyes shut, the voices in her head rose furious he was not with them in eternal agony.  "I felt it burn.  I felt the fire lick up my shin, eat through my robes.  I felt the fire eat it's way through my body.  I lay there on the cave floor glazed and stupid with the most exquisite, and unimaginable pain I had ever experienced before lacing it's way through my veins.  Then there was darkness.

"I resigned myself to death.  To hell.  To an eternity of flames and sulfur.  I know what burning is, and now I've seen hell."  Snape locked his eyes with hers, trying to eliminate any competition on her attention.  "Yet I woke up.  Aching and sore, but alive.  And cold."  He scowled, the look of wonder abating slightly.  "There was nothing in the cave but ashes and old memories.  When I stood it was amazing.  I felt as though I had lost a massive weight from my shoulders.  My memories were just memories, not visions of horror that could bring me to tears.  The best, however, was discovered after I retuned to the school.  Locked in my room, I stripped the death eater robes  from my body and incinerated them.  That portion of my life finally totally, officially, and completely over. 

"Then I looked down and I noticed it."  He held out his forearm and My gasped.  The dark mark was gone.  "The mark was gone and I am free of my past.  Free to live the present and the future."  He knelt in front of her.  "It was because of you.  You did this.  I am eternally in your debt.  Anything, and I mean anything," his eyes darted to Drake listening blankly with awe.  "Anything you want will be yours." At that he stood and swept out of the room.

Drake turned and looked at My.  Tears were streaming down her face.  Battle shock evident in her eyes she shivered in the warm room.  He knew that now was not moment to rehash the past.  Not when her guilt was at war with the notion that only the evil died.

"My."  She looked at him.  "Tonight you find me.  I'll be at Club Zero."  He stood and walked out.  Nodding at Weasley waiting at the entrance, impatience and worry written all over his features.

"Weasley.  Be gentle with her, she's fragile now."

Ron nodded silently, both knew now was not the time for questions.

My entered the club, the steady hypnotic beat was the type Drake favored.  The trip hop beat made the musical trance so much easier with the flashing strobe, the miasma of sweat and smoke.  The crush of people.  What better way to be alone than to be in a crowd of people.

She moved forward, the skin exposed by the top glowed like a beacon.  She felt a pull.  A pull towards a blonde head surrounded by girls.  A blonde head that belonged to her even as it didn't.  She walked forward and stood in front of him.

His gray eyes widened.  The baggy pants emphasized the tiny waist and the perfect tiny breasts.  His blood quickened he walked to greet her and the others left, knowing that they didn't have a chance with this girl in front of him.

She took his hand and led him to the floor.  She needed the clarity the dance gave her.  She moved her head an hips to the music.  Ran her fingers over her arms and moved with the beat.  She raised her hands above her head and twisted and writhed.  The music controlling her movements.

Then hands grabbed her, spun her pulled her she instinctively moved closer to this familiar body.  She stepped forward, straddling one of his legs.  His hands were on her hips, thumbs aligned on jutting hipbones.

They remained joined, the sensual, sexual movements of their dance lit a different type of fire in her, she edged closer to his body.  The liquid heat in her veins and between her legs urged the dance faster, and with a groan deep in his throat Drake followed.  Hands spanned her stomach, thumbs caressing the underside of firm breasts.  She moved closer and felt the product of her closeness on her stomach.

The dance was different tonight.  Rougher, less about escape and secrets and more about something primal.  More about sex and ownership.  Their bodies rocked and moved the feel of her body against his made him weak with want.  My felt the pressure he exerted on her stomach increase the heat of her blood.  She leaned against his leg, his body, his hand, anything to increase the friction and to add to the frenetic energy of their dance.

Before they realized it the club's music ended and dancers began to leave.  Breathe heavy from the exertion and the embarrassment at how intimate their dance had become.  My glanced up at him and then away, face scarlet at the emotions she showed during the night.

"I know don't worry."  Her eyes filled and she angrily blinked away unwanted tears.  "Just tonight, just the dance."

Drake shook his head.  He didn't know what had changed on this day.  But never would her eyes have tears if he could prevent it.  "No My."  He placed a hand on her hip and pulled her closer.  "Not just for the dance and not just for tonight."  He fitted his mouth to hers and kissed her with all the passion and pain he ever experienced.  "Forever.  Your mine.  Now and forever."  She reached upwards and brought his mouth down to hers.  Passion matching passion.

Anger, fury, pain, sorrow, and love.

Not just for tonight.  For forever.

TBC...

A/N::YAY I updated.  A cookie to everyone that is still reading this.  I'm so sorry about the time it took to get this posted but real life sucks ass.

I had planned to list the names of everyone that reviewed (over 50...:). ) but that would take a long time and I figured better to get the chapter out and give everyone  a massive thank you for the kind words.  Special thanks however, go to Lily among the thorns and fixedinsanity for reminding me how longs it has been and to get off my ass and post the next chapter.

Now for a question.  I can finish this in about four chapters or it could continue on for more.  The ending is already written.  How do you want the middle to go?  Let me know in a review.

Mystykitty


	11. Discovery

Power of Dance

Chapter Eleven

Discovery

_(A/N:: not mine)_

My felt swept away.  Her lips were swollen, stinging and slightly bruised.  She welcomed the pain.  She reached her hand up and stroked a pale cheek flushed with the heat between them.

His hand captured hers and held it tightly against his face, he could feel and almost inhuman heat radiating from her skin.  He didn't care.  He lowered his head and brushed his lips across hers.  Across her cheeks, forehead, eyelids before lowering his head and leaving a trail of light kisses in a line from ear to collarbone.

She shuddered under his lips; the line of fire he created on her neck threatened the fire of the phoenix burning inside of her.  My reached her arms up and wrapped them around his neck, fingernails lightly stroking the back of his head.

They were lost to each other, in each other.

The closing of the club at three didn't break them; the crush of people streaming past them didn't separate them.  They were lost in an influx of emotions and feelings, blind to everything but the other's eyes.

"Oi, you lot."  A rough voice finally broke into their private communication.  A bartender stood in front of them; arms crossed against his chest a protective and disapproving gleam in his eyes.  "Clear off.  The disco's closed."  He ignored Drake focused on My, a paternal gleam in his black eyes.  "Run of to your mum like a good lass."  Drake looked down at My, a question burning in his eyes.  Should he back off?  The feeling of her entwining her fingers with his the only answer.  After a shy smile to the bartender they slowly walked out of the club and back to the alleyway.  Neither felt a desire to return to school, to reality and the problems therein.  My turned and looked up at him.  Ready to ask what happens next.

"Drake."  Her mouth opened, pain refilled her eyes.  She didn't continue.  He understood with out words.  Gently but passionately he grabbed her upper arms and pressed her against the cement wall of the alley.  It reminded her of a random night in august.  Drake's mouth met hers and the drunken man vanished from her memory.  He kissed her with power and fear and love and reassurance.  As her tongue caressed the inside of his mouth she felt warmer, safer, ready to face the world.  He leaned in, his hips pressing hard against her stomach.

Reaching down he looped his hands underneath My's hips and lifted her up.  Instinctively she wrapped her legs around his waist and leaned against the wall, pulling his face closer to her intent on closing the distance between them.

The feel of his lips over hers, the warmth he radiated made her feel safe.  The safest she had felt since the first dance they shared.  Drake broke the kiss first, resting his forehead against hers. 

"We need to return.  The school is going to lock down soon."

Her voice was quiet.  "I know we do."

She sighed as the she was lifted away from the cool hard stone of the building.  She leaned forward and rested her head against Drake's chest, waiting to be lowered to the ground.

Drake could feel the heat from her burning into his chest.  It worried him; no one should be able to live at such a temperature. 

"My."  His quiet whisper echoed in the dripping alley.  "My, how long have you been--" He couldn't continue.

"This warm?"  She sighed.  "Since I met you at Pulse."  The words struck him through the heart and unconsciously he tightened his arms around and under her hips.  Shifting her body like it weighed nothing he maneuvered her so she was cradled in his arms bridal style.  She returned her head to his chest and the heat he could feel burning through the micro fiber shirt he was wearing intensified the worry that coursed through his veins.

"I'll protect you My.  Hermione." He pressed his lips to her head before he continued.  "According to the histories, Beatrice, the muggle girl lived for six months filled with burning heat.  It wasn't until her eyes turned fiery that her end--" Drake's voice trailed off the silence of the alley.  "But she also didn't have any powers of her own.  You were a witch to begin with; in fact you might be the most powerful witch that this world has seen in centuries.  I bet that you could live with the phoenix indefinitely."  She smiled against his chest.

"Thank you for your faith Drake."

He stood in front of the wall and whispered the incantation, they had never entered the portal at the same time before, but now her had her in his arms he was loathe to let her down even to travel back to Hogwarts.

"Drake is it safe to--" before she completed her thought he stepped through the portal and stepped out into the darkness of the Hogwarts hallway.  Behind them the doorway collapsed with a crash that echoed down the dark hallway.

He slowly let her feet drop to the floor, and slipped his arms around her waist.

"I don't want you to go back to your tower."  He whispered into her hair.

"I--" My cleared her throat, "I don't want to either, we have to talk."  He pressed his face into her neck, right where shoulder met neck.  She placed a warm hand on his head.  "We really do need to talk."

"I know.  I know we do.  Tonight though.  Tonight I just want to hold you."  Tears filled her eyes, would he feel the same way after they talked?

"Come to my room."  He lifted his head from her neck eyes wide; go into Gryffindor tower?

"Your roommates-- Its Gryffindor."

"I don't have any.  Please Drake--Draco."

His heart melted.  He couldn't refuse her anything.  He simply nestled her tiny hand in his.  Together they walked through the darkened halls, the gentle snores of the portraits was comforting in the silence of the sleeping castle.  Drake felt the heat coming off of My's body spread from her to him through their entwined fingers.  It traveled from his fingers up his arm and then down through his body.

She was his, and like Lucien he would do anything and everything in his power to keep her with him.

Up and up they walked before reaching the fat woman in a pink dress snoring loudly, head resting against the frame. 

"Marmite."  Drake's eyes widened at the sound of such an innocuous password.  Were the Gryffindor's and by proxy the "Light" side already so far removed for the conflict that consumed the Syltherins?  Obviously so.

The woman opened one eye and she sleepily murmured, "welcome back dear," before falling back against the frame.  Drake and My entered the tower fingers still entwined together.

Just as the portrait slammed shut the Fat Lady's eyes sprung open.

She had just admitted a Slytherin into Gryffindor Tower.  She had to alert the Headmaster.  Hoping no one was awake and wishing to leave she hiked up her skirt unconcerned at the pink from her bloomers and began to sprint through other portraits headed directly to the Headmaster's private quarters.

Drake lay in Hermione's bed in his boxer shorts with both arms wrapped around her.  Her warmth warmed him.  Together they lay, his front to her back, she was completely sheltered by his frame.

Her even breathing soothed him, lulled him into a safe place where he could relax.  In her room, arms tight around her he would sleep well for the first time in years.  Her gentle smell and heat a barrier against the nightmares that plagued him.  With her he was safe.

That thought foremost in his mind he fell asleep.

"Oh Headmaster.  I am so sorry.  I was asleep I didn't think, I've never failed before.  Please, Please--"

"Hush, hush good lady."  Dumbledore soothed the distraught painting.  In his brilliant mind Dumbledore considered his options.  He could go to the tower and forcibly remove the boy, or he could let it be.  At this point if Drake was what My wanted, he would give it to her.  After all she gave him and the wizard world.

Their Freedom.

If sleep--

And that was all he was going to allow himself to admit.  If sleeping in Drake's arms was going to offer her a modicum of peace, if it was what she wanted, what she needed, it was the very least that he could do.

Taking a bit of spare parchment, he grabbed a quill and scrawled a note to all the school's professors.

_Please excuse Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy from ALL classes today.  Any and all questions should be directed to myself._

_Thank you for your assistance_

_Headmaster Dumbledore_

The glaring yellow of the Weasly joke ink hurt his sleep filled eyes, and after distributing each missive to the various professors he retuned to him bed.

Drake woke to the sun in his eyes and a feeling of extreme relaxation that he had only ever been able to obtain chemically.

He reached a hand out and felt empty space, sheets still burning from where she had been sleeping.

His head shot up.  Where had she gone?

Then he heard it.

"My are you coming to classes?" Weasly's voice filtered though from the other side of the phoenix painting.  "Phoenix flight."  To Drake's horror the painting faded away to reveal Ron standing there.

Blue eyes widened.  Took in the sight of My in an oversized black tee-shirt and Drake in her bed, shirt casually tossed to the floor next to his pants.  He inhaled, face flushed, eyes angry.

"What?" His breath came short, and Drake could feel the tension, anger and pure unadulterated power pouring off of Ron in waves.

"Ron please."  Her voice was quiet and timid.  "He and I need to talk."  Ron's face turned from tomato red to a deathly pale.  "I need him Ron."  Drake scrambled from the bed and walked to her side, ready to defend her against the enraged teen.

The next voice to speak knocked any worry of Ron straight from Drake's mind.

"Ron, mate, is she coming?"

Harry.

My's eyes widened, a fearful expression on her face.

"Ah no, she's tired.  I'll be there in a minute."

"Alright just hurry up."

Ron's eyes were serious and he locked his blue eyes to her brown ones.

"Now is not the time to tell Harry."  The blue eyes then turned to pull gray eyes into their focus.  "But we will talk about this.  Talk about it after class.  Both myself and Harry deserve the truth."  He leaned forward and kissed My's cheek, before exiting the room, portrait reforming behind him.

My sank to the floor eyes wide.  "Oh shit oh shit oh shit."  She looked up at Drake.  "He'll kill you Drake."  A tear formed at the corner of her eye.  "He'll kill you or I'll lose him.  I can't loose either of you."  The flames in the hearth shrank and slowed their merry dance, sharing her melancholy and fear.  "I guess I may loose you any way though."

He stepped forward and pulled her to her feet, gripping her chin, forcing her to look him in the eye.

"My why?  Why do you think that I'll leave you?  Why do you always act like you don't deserve me?  I am the son of an evil maniac, the dreadful evil prat that whished for your death.  I hexed you and I tormented you.  I am the one that doesn't deserve you."  Draco's voice broke and he turned his back to her, refusing to allow her to see the tears in his eyes.

"Don't you get it?"  My's voice was quiet; the usual pain was laced with anger and regret.  "You taunted, tormented me.  Yes.  I forgive you.  It gave me the strength I needed to survive being best friends with Harry and Ron.  If you had touched my family, if you had ever hurt them, that's when I never would have ever forgiven you.  My mother."  An intelligent woman with clear, warm brown eyes and honey hair.  "My father."  A cheerful laugh, bald head, and love in his eyes.  "If you had ever hurt them I would have destroyed you."  The pain in her chest grew.  Her beloved parents were dead.  "And I, I want to love you, I want you to love me.  But I know that I don't deserve you.  Because I killed your father Draco.  I set him on fire.  Inside and out he burned.  From his lips I heard pleading and prayer and the fire only got hotter.  Just as his body began to crisp I heard him."  Her voice grew louder, choked with tears, eyes burning with the remembered acrid odor of burning flesh.  She flinched away from his gentle fingers.  "Just as he died he called out for you.  He cried 'My son' voice filled with such pain, such despair.  It burned its self into my skin, into my brain.  Into my soul.  I carry them.  The death cries of your father, of the other death eaters.  They linger in my brain.  I once vowed to destroy the people that killed my parents and I did."  Her voice died, the tears falling down her cheeks sizzled as traveled down her face.

"How can I let you love me?  I killed your father.  If you had been responsible for my parents I would never be able to go near you, to look at you.  "Her voice trailed off.  Her heart ached.  This was it.  This was where he leaves in a righteous cloud and she is left alone.

Drake felt a load lift from his shoulders.  He had a glimpse into her awareness.  He understood.  Now he had to make her understand.

"Hermione, you loved your parents.  I am sure that they loved you too.  I can se it in your eyes, in your interaction with people.  I understand your reason for thinking I should hate you but there is something that changes the situation."  He took her hand and guided her to sit on the floor with him.  As he continued his voice was detached, already separating himself from his emotions.  "I didn't love my father.  Not after he killed my mother."  My gasped.  "He pushed her down a flight of stone stairs when I was fifteen.  She was already fragile from the other times 'accidents' occurred around our manor."  He took a deep breath and tried to organize his thoughts.  "From the day I was born I emulated, idolized my father and his ideals.  He was perfect.  When I came to Hogwarts things began to change.  I was never good enough, smart enough, strong enough.  That was when the beatings began.  At first it was a slap of a fist in the back of the head.  It made me work harder, make more people miserable so that he would be proud of me.  It never did though, the situation just got worse.  Finally the truth about my father came out right after fifth year.  He pushed my mother down the stairs and told me she slipped."  The image of an icy princess marred by the trail of blood from her eyes and nose and the odd angle of her neck filled the private room.  "That was the night he blamed me for Potter--Harry.  That was the night he took me to the dungeon."  My reached out and smoothed away the glittering tears with her thumb, gently moving the hurt.

"You don't have to tell me.  I don't need to know anymore."  He looked at her, eyelashes soaked in tears.

"But I need to tell.  I know I need to tell you, to tell someone.  The moment I knew I didn't love him was the instant I saw my mum.  The instant I knew he didn't love me was the instant that he lashed me with a burning whip and didn't stop.  Would a man that loved his son have done this?"  Drake turned his bare back to her.  Angry red scars covered every inch of his back.  The pale unscarred parts looked out of place against the raised scar tissue.

My ran a finger, her hand down his back and watched him shiver underneath her touch.

"Oh Drake.  Draco."  She pulled off the tee shirt and pulled his scarred back to her bare chest.  "I can feel your heartbeat."

"I can feel yours."  He was quiet and wondering.  She still wanted him.  My felt their hearts beat together in a beat so like and unlike the beat of the clubs.  She was astonished he was here with her, letting her love him despite their past.

The beating of their hearts overpowered her, attracted her, and consumed her.

"Dance with me Drake?"  HE felt the beat surrounding them, wrapping them in a sensuality that make the fire and the candles flare.

He stood and pulled her with him.  He placed his lips on hers, on her neck collarbone between her breasts.  Her skin burned and lit the fire inside of him to greater heights.  Their hips moved together, bodies joined in a dance as old as time, as they lost themselves in each other and the dance they danced.

The sound of students entering the common room broke through their absorbation.  They lay entwined on the floor, limbs tangled, she lay cradled against his chest as her fingers played over his back a deep feeling of contentment and lethargy draped over her.  "I don't want to move."  Her words were whispered into the base of his neck.

"You don't have to."  As he spoke he tightened his grip and entwined his fingers together as they rested low on the small of her back.

A faint, "Dean, tell what grade you got on McGonagall's essay?"  My sat up and looked down in Drake's eyes.

"That was Harry."  She began to panic.  Images of Harry storming in throwing curses flooded her mind.  "I--, I--, Oh god Drake."

"Shhhhhh…" He placed a hand on her cheek.  "I can sneak away.  Weasly and Potter never have to find out about us.  I will stay quiet if you ask me to."  The words hurt him to say.  The only thing that hurt him more was the possibility that she would agree to his pledge to step aside.

"No Drake.  You're mine.  I need you, need us.  I just need to tell him, tell them."  She closed her eyes and inhaled.  "Alone."  Drake rose and pressed his lips to her forehead and again to her lips. 

"I know.  But know that all you have to do is say the word and I'll be there, no matter where I am or what I am doing I will hear you and I'll come for you."

"Thank you Drake."

TBC--

A/N:: Sorry to cut it there I had more written but as 'fixedinsanity' has said on repeated occasions a month is far to long to go in between updates.  Oh and thanks to 'EntertheMatrix' for review 300.

At least you should know that I already have at least five pages of Chapter 12 Revelations written.  In it you can look forward to the in depth conversation between the trio, a Harry/Draco confrontation and more information on My's anchor.  I hope you are still interested in reading it.

Now for the serious part.  I am seriously considering the idea of trying to publish my writing, right now, this is as close as I have come.  Please if you are reading this review and let me know in all honesty your opinion on the story premise, characterization and overall style, above all if you think I could become a professional writer.  I am really unsure if this is a move I should and would love the feedback from objective readers.

Thank You

Cat 


	12. Revelations Part 1

Ok I am the worst ever. You readers have been nothing but supportive and eager since I began this story almost a full year ago, and I leave you hanging for more than two months. Well this is me begging for reviewer forgivness. I guess the key reason that I've been delayed is that thanks to you, I am going to get serious and see if I could get original work published, that of couse means reading the backlog of work I had and seeing if any of it was worth devloping. On the up side-- I decided on what I want to devlop, so hopefully in a year or two I'll get published. And it because of you.

Now here is Chapter 12, there are four more handwritten pages in this chapter but lily among thorns informed me a little now would be better than all later...so chapter 12 is going to be split in two parts.

Cat

Chapter 12

Revelations

(A/N:: Not mine, how ever much I want to be a published writer never, ever would I try to claim the work of someone else. Therefore...don't sue me. The characters are not mine.)

A nervous My paced around her room trying to reorder her mind and work out exactly she was going to say to explain what Ron walked in on and simply to tell Harry the truth.

To tell her brother and best friend that she was in love with, has been with, will continue to be with his childhood enemy.

The knock at the painting covering the entrance to her room interrupted the frantic thoughts.

She opened it to reveal an anxious Harry and a distant Ron, his blue eyes showing his love despite the coldness of his expression.

"My?" Harry's voice echoed in her ear. "Ron said that we needed to talk. Are you alright? Do you need something?"

Her eyes filled with tears. Harry was important. He cared for her wanted to help her she couldn't loose him. He walked forward into her room and stopped himself wrapped her in a hug, holding her close to his body trying to make sure she was alright.

"It's time." He stepped back and looked at her, making sure her voice wans't muffled by his chest. He looked closely at her, emerald eyes clouded with confusion. He looked at Ron, whose whole demenor for the day had been distant. "Time for what?" She placed a tiny hand on his cheek and brought his eyes back to her face.

"Time for the truth Harry." She grabbed her cloak from a chair and threw it over her shoulders, letting it fall to cover faded jeans and worn jumper. "I can't talk here. Will you trust me?"

"From the beginning to the end."

"I really hope that's true Harry I really do."

The trio left her safe room and walked into the common room, all the Gryffindors happy to see the three together even if they did look very solemn. Before they could make it to the exit a first year intercepted them, a large smile on his face.

"My, My, I did it." He waved a role a parchment in her face. "I got a ninety-eight on my potions essay." From a spot in front of the blazing fire the other first years groaned even as they avidly watched their year-mate talk to the most famous with and wizards of the wizarding world.

My smiled and wrapped the boy in a hug. "Congratulations Josh, I told you that you could do it." She released him and smiled slightly as the blushing boy headed back to his friends, who were looking on in awe.

She walked to the portrait and waved goodbye to the boy she tutored and walked out of the tower. Ron threw his arm around her as they walked. "You either made that boy the envy of ALL the first years or the butt of all the jokes. And--" Ron raised an eyebrow, "Knowing how they talk about you, I'd bet five galleons he's the envy right now." She huffed, but her pleasure was evident in her brown eyes.

"He's right My. I wish a gorgeous seventh year tutored me in potions. Maybe I would have done better." Harry paused and an impish smile crossed his face. "Ah no I wouldn't have. There is no use in pretending."

She smiled at the two boys, glad that they were there for her.

"Alright boys Hogsmeade or London?" Ron's head snapped around so fast she was sure he would get whiplash while Harry just stared. "I need to speak with you without letting the whole school know. Hogsmeade or London? Although--" she mused half-jokingly, "I suppose anywhere in the world you want to go?"

Ron's eyes lit up. "Well what about Cairo? I've always wanted to go back to Egypt." Harry laughed at the manic gleam that had replaced the wall of stoicism.

He seemed happy.

Too happy.

Harry James Potter wasn't stupid. He knew something was going on. Something had shocked Ron so badly he acted numb nearly the whole day, not even the nastiness of Snape pierced the shell. He also knew Hermione was ready to open up. He could feel it. Something had happened that put an end to last four, no eight months of silence. He laced his finger through her small ones and looked deep in her eyes.

"Well if what you want to tell me requires complete privacy maybe we should go to muggle London, public and totally anonymous." My just smiled and escorted her little family to the familiar hallway.

Snape stared at the crystal in his hand, eyes narrow and angry.

How dare they?

Those two blasted Gryffindors are going to end it all. The careful groundwork he laid to keep Granger and Malfoy together. It was the least he could do. A nudge there, a detention, a distraction to keep the school from noticing the truth right in front of their eyes. He walked to the fire and tossed floo powder in the flames.

"Dumbledore."

A few moments later the Headmaster's face appeared above the purple fire.

"Yes Severus I know what's happening. No I will not stop it and no I do not think it will harm the relationship. If you are worried use your crystal to look in on Mr. Malfoy. Stop being such a mother hen." Dumbledore glared once at the potions master and disappeared.

Snape glared at the hearth. In his hand the crystal flashed and a different image filled it.

Draco sat in a plush chair deep in the library; a book unopened resting in his lap. Drake's eyes were unfocused and Snape could almost feel his worry through the quartz.

Draco Malfoy had changed drastically in the last two years. Fifth year, he was a duplicate of Lucius. The hidden bruises unable to sway him from hero-worshipping the bastard of a man. Sixth year was different; Narcissa's death hit him hard, he separated himself from the other Slytherins. He was still their king, of that there was no doubt, but he was also above them, beyond them. Beyond the petty fights of both intra- and inter-house bickering. All his focus was on avoiding the dark mark and his father. Each day had Draco growing up more as the bruises and scars faded. Then Lucius's death pushed him over the edge. Left him in a grown-up world to rebuild the Malfoy and apparently Malovious fortune and empire. The summer made him a man. The summer brought him her.

An image of eleven-year-old Hermione Ann Granger filled his minds eye. Young, idealistic, hungry for the knowledge only he could provide. He hated her. The bratty child was quickly aged in his mind's eye as worry and stress took its toll on her childish spirit. As anorexia stole vital energy from her body and aged her brown eyes. As the death of her parents and the perceived abandonment of her friends deadened her eyes. Then finally the changes wrought by the crystal cave. Her eyes were old now, haunted; a war veteran suffering from guilt that would kill an adult at seventeen.

The current Hermione Granger destroyed the eleven year old in his mind and he felt his heart open to the woman that saved his soul. He would do whatever she needed. To him, what she needed was Drake just as Draco Malfoy needed her.

My stood in the London alley and glanced at Harry. "Please Harry, Muggle cloths. We are going to a coffee shop I know." Harry took out his wand and transfigured the school robes into heavy jeans and coat. Together they walked down the street watching the muggles hurry by, frowns on their faces rushing to be home before the sun set or the underground closed.

Ron looked around nervously playing with the hem of his leather jacket.

"My are we nearly there? I don't like the looks we are getting." Ron glared at the men and boys that looked at Hermione hunger evident in their eyes.

"This is it Ron. The Gallery, the best all night coffee shop in London.

Together they entered the store, each in their own way ready for the truth to come out.

"I'd like a large coffee; black, a hot chocolate with whipped cream, and a vanilla latte," My softly asked the girl behind the counter.

"Sure. Sit and I'll bring the order by when Derek has them ready." My smiled at the tired waitress, hoping not to add to the layer of exhaustion behind her eyes.

"Thank You."

She walked away from the counter and sat down at a secluded table. Following behind her Ron looked amazed while Harry was thoughtful. His eyes made a note of everything trying to figure the situation out.

"Alright," she spoke, eyes focused of the scarred tabletop. "I'm going to tell you guys everything but please don't interrupt. If I stop I don't know if I'll be able to continue." Harry leaned back against the hard plastic chair, eyes trained on his best friend. Ron placed his large hand over hers, trying not to visibly wince at the heat from her hand. She was burning.

"My father was an only child. His parents were loving and kind, I never lacked for love and I knew that in their eyes I was special. Even after they passed away I knew that I held a place in their hearts. My mother was not so lucky; I never met my maternal grandparents they died long before I was born. I knew however, that they didn't get along with my mother. Beyond that I also knew that my mother had an older brother that she didn't talk to, hadn't spoken to or about in nearly thirty-five years. All I could find out was that after a family argument he simply moved away. Packed up and left, beginning a new life in America. Six weeks after my parents died I searched for him. I found that my uncle and aunt had been killed, a drunk driver. The only family I had left was two older cousins. I wrote them, explained the situation.

"I told them their paternal aunt was dead and I wanted to get to know them as my only remaining family. I found that after one telephone conversation I disliked them and the feeling was mutual. They were crass and arrogant. They told me in no uncertain terms that I was too young to stay with them, unless of course I was willing to give them their _rightful_ share of my mother's money. I shouldn't have let them, but they astonished me. By their greed and their callousness disregard for the fact my parents were dead.

"At the time I laughed. I had no reason to think I would ever have to stay with them. I could stay at the Burrow, with McGonagall, with Dumbledore at Hogwarts. The idea they wanted money was laughable, especially since I had no idea how much money I inherited. It remained locked in a trust until I was seventeen." She broke off and accepted the steaming cups from the waitress.

Ron spoke up and smiled. "Thanks." His cheeks flushed after she walked away. Finally he was able to tear his eyes away from the waitress and refocus on My. She was tense; even as she distributed the cups of coffee she was tense. It showed in her face, in her shoulders and in the mechanical way she spoke.

"My lawyers contacted me last February. I learned that directly after fifth year both my parents bought extremely expensive life insurance plans; they didn't want me to without if something happened to me. Then there was the money from the sale of the dental practice, and the inheritance, not the mention the property that can along with it. I found that I inherited a net worth of nearly four million pounds. I was set for life. It didn't matter though. My parents were dead. My life at school in shambles I was completely alone. What good is money if you can't share it with anyone?" Harry leaned forward ready to reassure her that she wasn't alone. Ron stopped him. Blue eyes sad, warning him not to stop the flow of the story.

"Then the cave happened. Tears filled her eyes. "I saw you two and I snapped. I was so afraid I couldn't stand it.

"They died. All around me they burned and yet--

"They live on in my head. Their taunts, their death cries, I carry it all.

"When I woke in the hospital all I could hear was them. I was alone in the dark surrounded by the voices of people that hated me. I heard Fudge outside the door, breaking through the ghosts. He wanted to obliviate me. 'She is too bloody dangerous Albus. Seventy people are dead, pillars of wizarding society. Obliviate her and break her damn wand.' Dumbledore didn't say a word in my defense. Only Snape stood up for me. Declaring his blatant hatred for 'mind-rape.' I knew after hearing that exchange I had to leave. Get far away from England and Hogwarts. If they wanted me gone, neutralized, I would leave. But by the gods it would be on my terms.

"I transfigured my hospital gown to Muggle clothes. I went from right outside of Hogwarts to London to New York. Underage wizardry laws be damned.

"In New York I went to my cousins apartment. Begged them to let me stay." She laughed bitterly. "It had taken me nearly twenty hours to get to them and I could only stay if I didn't alter their lifestyle at all. I got an army cot in the corner and a portion of the hall closet. They showed me how to get a fake id," she muttered under her breath, "stupid American drinking laws" before continuing.

"They also told me what clothes to buy so I was better suited their environment. They were club rats. They went to drink, to dance, and to find the one true lust of the evening. I joined in. Inside a smoky club, with the beat so loud it drove away the voices I could be free. I was a natural. The music flowed into me, around me, through me. It takes away me pain and wipes the slate clean.

"I would go out every night to dance." She locked eyes with both. "Just to dance. I felt complete in the music. I didn't need a partner. I would dance from eleven to four and then return to the tiny apartment in Queens. Then I'd sleep for the rest of the day. It was mind numbing. It was exactly what I needed to erect my shields and try to remember who I was before the events of the cave.

"Then in August it all changed. I was dancing alone the voices dimmed, the previous nights fuzzy, but I could actually feel my mind begin to clear. Then he came. A pair of strong hands on my hips. A whisper in my ear. We fit together. My body knew his, together we transcended the club and entered our own dimension of gray eyes and music. A dimension where I was safe, where I was loved and I didn't have to worry about anything but the beat.

"The next day I saw him again on the streets of New York. The odds were staggering. It was a sign. That night was a different club in a different district, and still familiar hands found me. It happened every night. We never spoke we didn't have to. All that we needed was the dance.

Ron's eyes were narrow and angry, focused so intently at the tabletop he missed the look of comprehension dawning on Harry's face as she continued her story.

"We never talked, we only danced, I knew he was Drake and he knew that my name was My but that was it. During August I could feel myself get stronger, feel my wards and my shields get more powerful, enough so that I could do simple spells and deliver presents without the strange power in me making things explode. I didn't want to leave. But I was reminded. Reminded of my obligations to myself, to Hogwarts, to Dumbledore, and even if I didn't want to admit my obligation to the two of you. SO I said goodbye to Drake, and headed for England. I felt broken, my newly made and strengthened shields shattered under the stress of returning and of leaving him."

"I was a wreck, tottering on the edge of breakdown with nothing to step back on. Snape gave me that. He saw me disguised at the Welcoming Feast and managed to give a glimpse of how to leave Hogwarts. It was a carte blanche ticket to freedom and the dance I thought I was going to have to leave behind.

"Couldn't say no. I went and I danced in a random muggle club in London. The dance beat steadied my heart, even as the sight of him there, in a black woolen robe made my pulse race.

"His attire didn't matter, we danced and I was able to ignore any hints over who my blond-haired partner was."

Harry grew paler. It couldn't be. Could it? She was joking. Ron simply looked at My, fingertips so tightly pressed against the table they were white.

"It continued, the same pattern as in New York. I'd meet Drake randomly in some club in London, as if he always knew how to find me. We would dance and I could feel alive again. Until one night."

She sipped her cooling coffee.

"It finally hit me. All the inconsistencies, all the things I wasn't allowing my brain to process, every appearance, every confrontation. On day it all clicked. It clicked as I stood and saw him standing in front of me in Hogwarts holding the robe, My gave to Drake. Drake wasn't someinnocent muggle I was fated to be with.

"Drake was--" her voice faltered.

"Draco Malfoy." Ron's voice was frosty and distant, a firm lid on the burning Weasley temper.

"Malfoy?" Harry this time. Confused and hurt and dreading where her story was leading him to. He didn't want to kill again, but if Malfoy hurt her--

"Draco. I almost regressed. But the next night he was there. Just as I resigned myself to dancing alone, he was there. Just for the dance, just for that night, but he was there. It was enough for me.

"Then he was there the next night, and the next.

"I love him." She allowed her head to fall into tiny hands, tears striking the tabletop in rapid succession. In the quiet Harry placed a hand on her hair and stroked lightly. Trying to grasp everything he learned.


	13. Revelations Part 2

Chapter 12 Revelations Part II

Previously on Revelations Part I

"Then he was there the next night, and the next.

"I love him." She allowed her head to fall into tiny hands, tears striking the tabletop in rapid succession. In the quiet Harry placed a hand on her hair and stroked lightly. Trying to grasp everything he learned.

And now on part II.

"That's not all is it?" There had to be more to the story, if Malfoy had hurt her he would break his scrawny neck.

"Harry, Ron," She looked at both of them, "He loves me. He understands me in a way I never thought possible. I killed his father and he accepts it, he accepts me and all of the drama that I carry with me.

Ron opened his mouth for the second time during her story. "I don't like it, I don't understand it, but I will accept it, if it makes you happy. If he ever hurts you I'll bury his body where no one will ever find it, but that isn't the whole story. That doesn't explain why you are hotter than any human could hope to be and live, or the new magic that allows you to barley be able to complete your class work but lets you do spells even Dumbledore would have trouble completing." His blue eyes stared into hers, not even the shadow that covered their table broke his gaze.

"Please My, tell me what's going on?"

The shadow spoke. "Now is not the time or the place Mr. Weasley." It was Snape.

He swept though the streets of London a tracking spell on the infamous trio. He would not let her friends ruin her. Now was not the time for questions, not yet. Not until there she actually had answers.

He ignored the puzzled glances at his sweeping black robe or the lack of a heavy coat. The globe in the palm of his hand flashed as he strode past a rundown coffee shop. There, obvious through the glass was Weasley and Potter, expressions of pain and disbelief obvious as they listened to the story of the girl in front of them.

She had told them about Mr. Malfoy, but not yet about the Phoenix, she wouldn't have had time. He entered the shop ignoring the strange ring as he opened the door and walked to the secluded table. The interrogation session ended now.

"Now is neither the time nor place for this conversation Mr. Weasley." For a moment her delighted in the sick look of fear that flashed across faces too old for their years. At least they had not been so scarred that the sight of a teacher with an upset expression could still inspire fear.

"Professor Snape, I am sorry sir, it was my fault that we are here, I was craving caffeine and only muggle coffee could satisfy me." Snape looked down at the cup in front of the red eared Weasley; he had hot chocolate. Maybe he had grown up enough not to ruin everything.

"You are a terrible liar Mr. Weasley, now however is not the time for it." He turned to the pale girl sitting silently watching him, almost looking into his soul. "What portal did you use?"

Her voice was quiet, "The same one as always Professor. The district is a block higher."

"Then let us return. You, I believe have a study group of first year students crying about an essay I assigned. You will want to help them I'm sure." She nodded slightly before standing. Together they left the shop, Snape in the lead, heading back to the portal to Hogwarts. Behind him My was pale her fingers entwined in Ron's as Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

The trip to the alley was much less happy than the one the night before. As My opened the portal the phantom feeling of familiar lips on her neck made her heart ache, this was not how it was supposed to feel, even as it hurt however, the feeling gave her strength.

"Miss Granger, go to your study group. Potter, Weasley go back to Gryffindor." Snape glared at them as they hugged My and watched her walk away.

"Professor?" Ron's quiet voice filled the hallway.

"No Mr. Weasley, if you want to know what's wrong with her you must ask her, not try to weasel it out of someone that isn't even involved in the sordid affair." He ignored the 'shit' that Potter muttered, making a mental note to deduct house points for foul language, being off grounds and for making him be nice to Granger. "Although of course, there is another party intimately involved in this issue. Ask him if you think you can act like adults and not spill any blood." With that he turned and stalked down the hallway, his muttering just below the audible level.

The disgust he felt at being involved with so many gryffindors made him ill and short-tempered. How could he temper is hatred for the players involved in this farce of a drama with the very real debt her owned to the principle player. The only answer was he couldn't, he would never be able to repay her.

Harry and Ron watched the man sweep away before turning to each other.

"Malfoy." Ron's eyes were dark, nostrils tinged with white. Harry tried to keep an open mind, but Malfoy- and Hermione? Together? The thought made his gorge rise and his skin crawl. The idea of them together darted throughout his thoughts each pass making him more and more furious, how could seven years disappear in a summer? How dare he think that his dark Malfoy blood was good enough for Harry Potter's sister?

"Ron, this ends tonight. No more secrets, no more omissions. We are getting some answers, and if I have to beat it out of a Slytherin well then all the better."

"Lets find the ferret." Ron began to walk, his fingers pressing harshly into his palm, the slight pain the only thing keeping the red haze from completely taking over. Together they walked down the halls, younger students ducking away from the sad eyed heroes of a war that didn't have to happen.

Draco heard a resounding knock on the portrait that guarded the entrance to the Slytherin Common room. He was alone in the room, pointed glares at the younger students and muttered curses at his own friends had the common room cleared. His family name may be less than dirt in Diagon Alley, but in Slytherin? In Slytherin he was still king.

He stood and walked to the portrait sidestepping the sharp edges and uncomfortable furniture. Who knocked at Slytherin? The ones who knew where the entrance was would have also known the password. He opened the door and glared at the intruder. His glare intensified as he recognized the dunder twins. He schooled his expression to blankness and trained his eye on the wands carefully stored up billowy sleeves.

He shouldn't have been surpassed that they were here, ready to tear him a new one, but he was. He was too worried about My to be prepared to face two enraged morons intent on protecting their friends honor.

"Potter. Weasley."

Potter stepped forward, eyes snapping with the need for a fight.

"What the hell is going on with Hermione Malfoy?"

Drake could feel his eyebrows draw together. Wasn't My going to tell them everything? What had she told them? How much did they know and what could he tell them?

"Didn't My tell you herself?" he couldn't help it, he wanted to be a smart ass, wanted them to see that their shadow trusted him more than she did them. His feelings towards one of his former rivals may have changed drastically; he still despised the male portion of the trio. they were so closed-minded, so self righteous, so ignorant and indignant. They made him sick. The adulation and the arrogance that followed Potter around like a wet blanket. How the world saw him as a hero, when others always fought his battles. For the simple boyhood hurt of a spurned offer of friendship. He despised Weasley for his stupidity, for his temper, for always holding My and even Potter back. Even just for a deep seated familial grudge that he didn't even want to analyze.

Yet despite all of their very obvious shortcomings, My needed them. Not in the same way that she needed him, but she needed them nonetheless. It was her need that made him answer them, for her he would do anything.

"Professor Snape stopped the conversation before she could tell us everything." Weasley's nasal voice broke through his thoughts. Draco found himself looking into blue eyes. "I know about you too, more than she told us, I can see it just by looking into your eyes, that isn't the issue. Make no mistake, when she is safe it will be. I'd sooner she marry a flobberworm than date you, but right now I just want to know--

"We want to know everything."

Drake felt himself break eyes contact first, amazed by the depths of understanding and love. Ronald Weasley was no longer the shallow prick he once was.

"Alright." The words were out of his mouth before he could think them through. "I'll tell you, but not here, and you can't beat me after I tell you."

Potter nodded sharply, "Not here, neutral ground."

Weasley elbowed him in the side and muttered something obscure about Snape and Potter spoke again. "And no bloodshed."

The three boys walked silently through the dark halls, in the back of their minds the curfew bells rang, and the sounds of other students echoed around them.

Finally they made it to the only remotely neutral zone, the only place all three felt comfortable.

The Quidditch Pitch.

Draco didn't waste anytime, he didn't want to spend any more time with these morons than he had to. "A long time ago a wizard experimented with forces he could control and decided to play with the idea of imbuing muggles with magic."

Ron spoke, voice sharp. "Lucien Malovious."

Draco ignored him, his own worry over my blocked out the cold wind buffeting the the group on all sides.

"During the course of his experiments he stole the essence of a phoenix and merged it with the soul of a muggle woman that he was obsessed with. Unfortunatly for him, the merge was incomplete and the nature of the phoenix took over. The girl burned to a pile of ash and the essence was released, now gifted with the sentience of the girl. He was shamed and eventually died in hiding, while the phoenix traveled the world collecting memories and more sentience and power. It became stronger and stronger, becoming one of our greatest myths and bedtime bogies. Then it stopped taking control of others and disappeared. I don't know how or why, but it was trapped in the crystalline matrix of the"

"Crystal Cave." It was Potter. "It has her doesn't it." Drake looked away, his own pain too evident to share with others.

"For nearly seven months."

"How long does she have?"

"Another couple of months historically. Forever. She is the strongest witch I know. For all we know she could master the Phoenix and carry it for as long as she wishes."

Harry turned away from the group and began to pace. Ron watched as his friend paced, watched as shoulder shook at the thought of loosing another family member in another couple of months.

"What are the signs?"

Drake sighed. This would be easier if they tried to fight, if they didn't act so broken. "Excessive body heat, beyond anything a mortal could survive. Control over fire, irrational temper and feelings," he watched Ron wince at each point. "As it gets closer

to the end, speaking in the royal we, eyes filled with fire, crying flame--" He swallowed and closed his eyes, tears trailing down his face as he saw My burst into flames in his minds view. "Then it's over.

She's gone."

"How do we keep her here?" Potter was back from his pity walk.

"We can't." Drake held up a hand. "But hopefully we can bring her back.

"She needs an anchor, something to come back to. Something powerful enough to force the Phoenix magic to rebuild her body."

"What is the anchor?" He sighed; it was too much to even hope they wouldn't ask that question.

"We aren't sure. Love maybe." He dropped his head to a pale hand, voice muffled. "Mine yours, Dumbledore, McGonagall's, Snape even.

"Hell the whole school would fade a little with out her in it. We just have to find a way to harness that power and force the Phoenix to take notice."

The boys become men looked at each other and a bond formed. It transcended their very real dislike for each other. It focused on a thin girl with fire-kissed hair that they would die, would kill to save.

TBC

A/N:

Thanks for everyone that's still reading this, thanks for all the kind comments.

Thanks to everyone and it shouldn't be very much longer until Power of Dance is finished

Mystykitty


	14. One of Our Own

Chapter 15

One of Our Own

(A/N:: Not mine)

The sound of a head hitting the wooden table hard echoed through the quiet library.

"I can't read any more. my head is going to explode if I even try." Ron's voice was muffled by the table, but loud enough to stop the other occupants of the library from staring at the strange sight in front of them that time had eventually made familiar.

Sitting at a table piled high with ancient spell books was Draco Malfoy along with his mortal enemies, Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. The air around them was frosty and tense but each man was consumed with the books and bouts of frantic note taking on the piles of parchment in front of them.

"There is nothing here. How the hell can we save her with a spell if no spell exists? What are we supposed to do?" Ron snapped anger flashing in his blue eyes before he reached over and grabbed tome, quill already poised to take notes on the secrets the book held.

"Wait Weasley." Malfoy's voice cut through Ron's mutterings. "What did you say?" His voice distracted as the gray eyes focused on the red haired youth.

"Say? I said there isn't a single bloody spell in any of these damn books. Wh--"

"No after that."

"What? No spell exists?" Harry leaned forward at the same time as Malfoy a new glean apparent in their eyes.

"Exactly." Their voices echoed through the room. Ron pinched the bridge of his nose.

"And this is good?"

Draco set aside his book and smiled for the first time in the months of their research.

"if no spell exists Weasley, we will make our own."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

My sat in the Great hall staring at the falling raindrops in the ceiling. It was March already, the year seemed to slip past her like silk through fingertips. The holidays had come and gone split between Drake and the Burrow, give her time and hope. Hope that she still had a chance at life. She watched as the three most important people in her life gathered together, put aside their mutual dislike and worked together for a common goal. A common goal they wouldn't tell her, she knew it was about her, but what it was she didn't know. When school reconvened their research continued, never excluding but not including her either.

A burst of heat welled up and spilled throughout her body, flushing her cheeks. She was so tired of heat. She allowed her hand to pass over her face, trying to wipe away the pain, the heat. To simply try to collect herself.

"My?" A tentative voice called out, breaking through her heat clouded thoughts. "Are you alright?" My opened her eyes and looked at the gryffindor first years. She smiled softly as she looked at the concerned first years she tutored.

"Of course guys, just got caught up in my thoughts. Now where did we leave off last time?"

OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Josh looked with suspicion at his hero. She wasn't alright, she hadn't been alright for a long time. He watched as she stared unseeing at the ceiling. He watched as her cheeks burned red, as her eyes flashed with fire. He saw her hands shake and how she tried to find it. Tried to hide her fear.

She was trying to protect them. He looked down at the defense book and glared. She always protected them, for once somebody ought to protect her. The instant he thought it he knew the thought was right. He would protect her. SHe was the first person to talk to him at Hogwarts, the first to help him study. More than any other professor at the school she was his teacher. He would do anything for her, looking around at the other students she tutored, from that the ages, all the houses he knew. He knew that they felt the same way. Together they would help her.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Albus. Stop brooding." The old man raised his head and looked at the prim woman standing in front of the large oak desk. He ran the quill in his hand across the spine of the book in front of him and glared at his confidant.

"Minerva," his voice venmous. "To what do I owe this dubious pleasure?"

"She's fading fast Albus. There is no time for you to brood over the fact three seventeen year old boys created a spell even you couldn't think of." She snak into a plush wine colored chair, sighing as her bones creaked. "They spent months researching and then anothermonth formulating the spell. Sod it all. Ronald Weasley learned arithmancy while Potter learned gnomic runes to better analyze the stability of the casting. They are practically at NEWT level in both subjects, and could practically obtain a spell crafters degree if they thought about it." She glared at the man behind the desk, even as her heart ached for a man not ready to let go of the people he devoted the last thirty years to protect. "Stop hiding like a child and accept their work. Help them finish it, they don't know where else to go. You can help them. You can help her." She looked down at wrinkled hands, as tears filled her eyes. "This is our last chance to not let her down. We let her down for so long Albus. Her depression, her parents, the phoenix. We were supposed to protect her. To protect them all." She slowly rose from the chair mentally cursing the fact she wasn't young enough to simply force him to see the truth. "For seven years we have tried and failed to protect our own students. She has--" the normally stoic woman's voice faltered. "She has always stepped up to protect others. Not just herself and younger students. But everyone, Remus and Sirius, Hagrid and Gwap. If they needed help she gave it. Merlin above she protected Snape at her own expense. She spent what was supposed to be her childhood protecting everyone else. Now it's our turn to protect her. So stop acting like a bloody child and help the boys. They buried their animosity, now it's time for you to bury your jealosly and try not to repeat your mistakes with Sirius." She stared pointedly at him until he turned away and stormed out of the office.

Albus looked down at the parchment on his desk and narrowed his eyes and the clear ink lines.

"Something just isn't right with it." Over his shoulder Fawkes trilled anxiously. As if struck by inspiration Dumbledore's eyes widened as he began to sketch directly on top of the parchment Potter had given him. This was it. The answer to the spell.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Drake stood in the Great Hall with his arm around My's shoulders ignoring the glares that Harry kept sending at their entwined fingers.

"Alright Miss Granger, the spell is more complicated than other spells we've done and for proper focus we have the diagramming. It's centered over the magical convergence of the school. Hogwarts was built over a cross of four of the strongest lay lines in scotland. The center of the pentacle is on the intersection." Dumbledore pointed to where she would stand, the faint lines shimmered with the fumes of the potion the created them. "The principles of the spell stand at the five corners and any others will be even;y spaced about the outside circle."

Drake glared. "Others?" His voice was dangerous. Dumbledore turned to him.

"Anyone that loves her is welcome to help Mr. Malfoy." His voice was solemn.

"Sir?" My's voice was quiet. She was tired, so very tired. "What is this spell? Where was it found?"

Drake spoke up. "It's a deritive of a binding spell utilizing the magic of the school and the emotions of the caster."

"Who are the primary casters?" Harry stepped forward.

"Professor Dumbledore, Professor Snape, Ron Malfoy and I are all the primaries."

Her lips quirked in a small smile. "Thank you all."

"We will perform the spell in three days at the new moon."

"Yes, Professor. It's gravitational pull ought to help in the full bindings of the magic." He turned to My, a deep intimacy left for everyone to see. "Dance?" Her eyes filled with tears and she pressed her face to his chest. She nodded against the softness of his shirt and the two left the hall together.

Ron and Harry looked at each other and a mutual decision was made without another word. They allowed her to walk away without another word.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

My opened the door to her room three days later to see Snape scowling at her.

"Professor Snape?" My felt her heart begin to race. In his black robe, hair limp around a sallow face he was reminiscent of death. An angel of death coming to take her away.

"Miss Granger, the new moon is rising and there is just a short time frame--"

She nodded, eyes worried. She grabbed a soft oversized jumper and pulled it over her head. The fine fabric screamed Malfoy even as it settled around her falling to her mid thigh, sleeves falling down and over her fingertips. Taking a calming breathe she followed the taciturn man from the tower.

Unable to stay silent any longer she spoke "Professor," her voice despite the meekness in her tone it shattered the silence that had enveloped them. "Will this work?"

"I don't know Miss Granger. As much as I wish I knew I don't."

She nodded to herself and they continued walking down the stone hallway the usual sounds of children laughing and learning conspicuously absent.

As they approached the main part of the castle a familiar blond head turned a corner and appeared to be waiting for her. Snape nodded his head at his student and left the two of them alone.

He looked down at her and smiled crookedly at her before opening his arms. She stepped forward and let herself collapse into his arms, finally allowing her muscles to relax in the safety he represented.

She spoke into his chest, voice muffled by the rich fabric covering his body. "I've missed you. Missed having your arms around me. Missed sleeping in your arms at night." She looked up into his eyes. "I've missed you Drake."

He used his thumb to wipe away the sparkling tears on her cheeks. "I've missed you too love. I had to make sure that this was right though. I need you with me and I'll do what ever I have to keep you with me." He took her hand in his and began walking. 'We have to hurry though. Our window is short and I want us to go dancing tonight. I want to remember what it is to not have a care in the world and to loose myself in your eyes and in the beat." She smiled at him, as they walked into the Great Hall together.

My's jaw dropped as Drake looked around in shock at all the people present. His eyes were cold with rage and contempt, tempered by a deep streak of urgency and fear.

"What are they doing here?" He demanded. "This was supposed to be private."

Drake glared at all the people, tightening his grip around My's waist before sending her to sit with a smile. Harry looked around at all the people. The hope in his eyes evident to everyone in the room.

"You know secrets can't be kept at Hogwart's Malfoy. In fact its' the best way for everyone in the school to find out. Besides, why does it matter? They are here to help."

The blond man snarled, "We. Don't. Need. Their. Help. We can do it on our own."

Ron looked at the faded girl sitting in a chair eyes closed. She looked so much paler than she had even three days ago. A ghostly pallor had spread across her features except for the twin spots of burning color across her cheekbones. "We can't Malfoy. We need all the help we can get."

"No we don't. I want them gone."

A new voice broke through their heated fight; it was young but filled with conviction and fire. "Shut up Malfoy. This isn't about you. It's about her. We all love her too. We are going to help and if you don't like it you can bloody well sod off." It was Josh. "I know I'm not going to." Despite the truth behind the words the delivery was shaky, not often does a first year tell the Slytherin Prince to sod off.

"Well said Mr. Willis." Dumbledore's voice spoke. He looked down at the boy. "Although I am sure that Miss Granger wouldn't approve of such strong language from you." Josh blushed and the staring contest between the four boys was broken. "Come along, it's time." He walked over to My and helped her to her feet.

Together they walked to the pentagram painted in potion in the center of the room. He placed her in the center and kissed her cheek. All around her people stood and moved to stand at their pre-assigned places. All ready to save their friend.

Drake looked at the ceiling in the hall and watched as the stars shone down on them.

"Now." He cried and all the lights were extinguished, except the gentle light of star-shine. He took out his wand and pointed it at her, all the others following suit.

He inhaled deeply and began to speak, "With my love I bind you, with my magic I anchor you, and with my power I command you." He exhaled and began to speak the words of the spell, the familiar French spilling off of his tongue. "Mon amour vous liera. Ma magie vous ancrera. Ma puissance vous fera le séjour" He kept his eyes trained on her as he spoke, "amour," from the tip of his wand a beam of white light arced across the gap between them and sank into My's body. For an instant her eyes glowed white and her body sagged. With out stopping Drake began and joined in perfect unison by a visably grim Harry. His emerald eyes locked on her. "Mon amour vous liera. Ma magie vous ancrera. Ma puissance vous fera le séjour."

"Soeur"

Another beam of light joined the one connecting Malfoy. Ron spoke and added his voice to the growing wave of power. "Mon amour vous liera. Ma magie vous ancrera. Ma puissance vous fera le séjour"

"Soeur"

Dumbledore, than Snape joined.

"Fille"

"Sauveur" The light was beginning to glow around her, an aura of pure unselfish love and power. The outer ring began to speak along with the center star. McGonagall, Flitwick, Vector, and Remus Lupin.

"Enfant"

"Idéal"

"Cadeau"

"Héros"

All around the circle students began to commit their magic, their love, their power to anchor their friend to the earth.

"Ami"

"Inspiration"

"Mentor"

"Professeur"

Josh Willis was the last to speak. He modulated his voice to match the tone and cadence of Malfoy's voice and spoke. "Mon amour vous liera. Ma magie vous ancrera. Ma puissance vous fera le séjour"

"Mère"

His white beam joined others and the casters fell silent watching and the object of such intense power rose up from the floor, giddy at the power contained under her skin before collapsing to the ground with a crash even as fire crawled along her skin.

Those watching were horrified as the flames rose from her body to crackle and leap across her skin. A fierce magical battle was being waged between the magic trying to bind, and the magic desperately trying to maintain the freedom of a millennium.

Finally the battle paused and the flames sank beneath her skin once more. Still she lay there a crumpled heap, unable to do anything but take harsh labored breaths.

Drake closed his eyes and pointed his wand to the air. "As I will it, so shall it be." Around him, the others said it in unison, and the bond holding them to the circle was released.

Drake stepped forward and pulled the unconscious girl in his arms. Simply holding her close to his body helped to sooth his unease. He looked at the Headmaster and her friends, his eyes guarded.

"The moment is soon." He looked at Ron. "Please alert those you think deserve to know." He looked down at the unconscious girl and walked out of the hall ignoring everyone but the girl in his arms.

A/N: I used babelfish for the translation. I wanted latin but I couldn't find a single decent translation. If anyone knows latin or a good translating site let me know and I'll probably repost with the corrections.

On another note: I hate to do this, but as the second to last chapter of the story that has become my baby...if you read it, please review. let me know what you think, if only to feed my own ego.


	15. Ascenscion

Chapter 15

The Ascension

(A/N: This is a work of fanfiction and as such the characters are used by this author without the original authors express permission, but like with term papers, hopefully citing the original author will prevent calls of plagiarism. All the recognizable characters belong to JKR. So more power to her.)

My felt the heat in her skin rise, felt the fire that was always beneath the surface spike and stoke itself. She rolled over in an unfamiliar bed and looked around everything was tinged a strange and heavy red. She glanced in a mirror and gasped. The fire in her body was reflected in her eyes. Twin gates to hell. She felt her tears tear up, only to have the liquid evaporate before the tears spilled down her cheeks. A beautiful song filled the air and My felt a comforting weight settle on her lap.

"Oh Fawkes," My ran her quivering fingers over his warm feathers, "I'm scared. What if they're wrong? What if I can't come back?" My bent her head over the birds head. He lifted his head and forced eye contact on her. Somehow for the first time, the fire in her eyes met a match in the heated blackness of his. For the first time My felt that she might actually have a chance at survival. The beauty of Fawkes song rang through her mind, drowning out any doubts, it was different then the throbbing beat of a club but just as effective.

All of her fears and worries were dampened, all her important memories were refined and distilled. She saw the moment she received her Hogwarts letter, the rush of her first successful spell, the first glimpse of the castle that would become her home. Her first Well done Miss Granger, eleven year old knights in shining armor saving her from a troll. Then learning to see beyond her knights to the boys she loved with all her heart, her boys, Harry and Ron. Every happy moment, every triumph, from accio to the patronus charm. Every moment of the Trio flitted through her mind. Every memory flashed through her mind as bright and searing as the lightening bolt scar on Harry's forehead. She re-experienced the joy of getting perfect OWL scores and her first real date. Tears rolled down her cheeks as the sound of dirt was thrown on top of her parents coffin echoed through her mind, the feeling of her eyes unseeing as strong arms encircled her. She remembered the feeling of true freedom that enveloped her as she watched Voldemort dissolve after Harry's curse. She felt the quaver in her soul to the beat of her first dance, the first heart-wrenching, painful and liberating dance. The Dance. The dance that had worked its way into her soul becoming as much of apart of her as magic. Dance calmed her, cured her, brought him into her life. Him.

Drake. Drake who loved her, protected her, forgave her, saved her. Her Drake. The security of his love anchored her as a thousand other faces filled her mind. Mother, Father, mentor, professor, friend, brother. The love she felt for them swept through her, a tidal wave of feeling, that left in its wake a sense of calm and detachment. She knew they loved her, she watched the spell arc into her body, felt a comfortable weight settle deep within her. A weight she could no longer feel. She was prepared, she could let go and allow the magic of the phoenix take over, she only hoped that they could let go of her.

She rose from the bed, muscle protesting after being so still. Her brain adjusting to the sight of everything washed in crimson. Looking at the stand next to the bed she pulled on the light white shift and let it lightly fall down her body settling with a quiet rustle. She pulled her hair from its knot and allowed it to tumble naturally down her back, a heavy halo of fiery dark hair. She could feel the heat beneath her kin grow hotter, a flush of heat rippling along her body. She had to escape, the room was to warm, the heat inside of her nearly to much to bear.

The white dress whispered against her knees as she walked along the halls, searching for anyone to answer her questions. Dumbledore, Snape, mostly however, she searched for Drake. The portraits watched as the dark angel passed them, the internal fire lighting her from the inside. She wondered at the silence, had she managed where Voldemort failed, and closed Hogwarts? Of course know one would want their child to watch a fellow student burst into flame. She walked along familiar halls, fingers running along rough stone, listening for an whisper of familiar sounds. Finally her feet took her to the great hall, where a strange beat echoed up through the stone under her feet. As she approached the doors opened to reveal a dance floor. The lights flashed and changed, a trip hop beat echoed in her mind. Standing in the middle of the floor was a familiar figure. Drake stood there eyes focused on her form, dressed as he had been so long ago, that first night at Pulse.

Hello mystery girl. Draco's face lit up at the sight of the woman he loved so much. Do you have time for a dance? He held his hand out to her and waited for her to come closer. 

Where are the others? Are there others? My stepped up to Drake and began to sway to the music, her body moving to the beat controlling her actions. Drake moved with her, matched her, allowed them one more chance at being complete. Another chance at being together.

Dumbledore and Snape are guarding the door, giving us a dance.Guarding it?

Drake laughed a warm noise deep in his chest. Guarding it from Harry, McGonagall, and more than half of the Weasley family. My smiled against his chest and lost herself in his presence, their problems disappearing leaving only their love, the dance, and the fact that while the music was playing they had eternity.

They never noticed the people who rushed into the room in time to see Draco and My entwined together, their whole world in the other persons eyes, dancing together for what could be the last time. They watched the couple trying to memorize the feel. One by one Hermione's second family left, able to feel the love and despair in the air. Soon the only one remaining was Harry watching his sister dance with what was once his worst school yard enemy. A few moments passed and it finally struck him he was going to lose another family member, even if she returned, she would still be gone. Feeling his heart grow heavier he turned and allowed the couple to dance.

Finally the music ended and My turned, the heat under her skin spiked made her feel ill. Drake grinned remembering how so many of of their nights ended. He grabbed her wrist and dropped it with a gasp. It burned like hot metal.

her voice was rusty, It's time. The world Drake stood on dropped out from underneath him. How ironic the woman he loved was a creature his family created, and in the same token, taught to self-destruct. He reached out and took her hand, ignoring the severe heat, and the faint odor of burning hair.

Come on My. Things are set up outside. He led her towards the door when her eyes rolled back into her head and her body sagged. The golden irises he loved so much disappeared underneath the wealth of flames trying to burn their way through. He scooped her slight frame into his arms and walked purposefully through the door. Calling for Dumbledore, Snape, and even Potter. Finally reaching the fields outside of the school, the sight of people in the people in the fields made him hesitate. This was more than the people that had tried to support him waiting for My to wake up, this was more than the people that had been their to help with the spell. There were Gryffindors, young and old, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws that stared in silence. He walked forward, shifting Hermione in his arms, trying to protect her from the stares. Not far ahead of him, black tousled hair gleamed in the late afternoon sun. 

Potter. What in the bloody hell is going on here? Drake glared at the people pretending not to listen to their conversations, pretending not to stares at the girl hanging limp in Malfoy's arms. What the bloody fuck are these people doing here? This isn't some sort of show meant to entertain the masses.

Harry grabbed his elbow and made him start walking again. They want to say goodbye, even if she is going to be back in a few days. He pointed to a blonde Ravenclaw. That's Muriel Hardcastle, Hermione tutored her in charms for six months, with out her tutoring Murielle wouldn't have gotten a job with the charms department at Serestum industries. He pointed to another, this time a brunette boy with sad eyes. That's Alexi Vargus, he followed My around from three months our sixth year, she reminded him of his mum, and he was willing to be cuddled when her parents were killed. Green eyes met gray. We all love her Draco. You can hide her from the world, but not from the people that love her. Harry looked at the girl resting in Draco's arms, cheeks flushed as her head rested against a hard chest. He leaned over and kissed her cheek, ignoring the pain.

My's eyelids fluttered after the touch. Slowly, Drake could feel her body begin to stiffen in his arms.

Where are we? What's going on? Her voice was strange, a dual voice, one the familiar voice of a friend and lover, the other a crackling powerful voice, the voice of fire, elemental and pure.

At that moment Dumbledore appeared.

Miss Granger-- For a moment he paused, eyes faintly puzzled. Dumbledore gestured at Draco to set her down.

If you come with me I can show you to a place we set up. My nodded and followed him, her steps shaky and slow. Behind her Harry and Draco hovered, ready to leap forward for anything. Together they walked across Hogwart's grounds to the setup near by the Quidditch Pitch.

Milling around with no direction or organization were all her professors, the Weasley family and more than half the school. They were there for her, waiting for her.

Dumbledore turned to face the aimless people, he began to speak, his aged voice ripe with power and sadness. Thank you all for being here today, however, this isn't a show, I have to ask that if you haven't been cleared to be here by myself or Professor McGonagall please return to your Common room and then the train. He placed a wrinkled hand on her back and escorted her to an circle burned into the grass. For My's sensitive eyes, the magic from the circle radiated and rippled above the circle.

Before she stepped into the circle he stopped her with a gentle touch to her arm. Miss Granger, Hermione. I have spent many years teaching and I have cared for each and everyone of them. Yet, there are certain students that work their way so deep into my heart that they will always remain vivid in my mind and heart. You are one of these students. Forever more you have a place in my heart as a student, a friend, and a daughter. I eagerly await your return. His voice was quiet, only Harry and Draco able to hear all of his words. Anyone watching however, could read the sincerity in his face, nor could they miss the shadow that crossed his face as the daughter of his heart struggled with an internal battle.

Dumbledore stepped back as other teachers stepped forward thanking her for her contributions to their classes for seven years. Vector, Lupin, and so many others. The final teacher to step forward was Snape. He stepped up to her and looked into fiery eyes, trying to find the girl that annoyed him for so many years. Miss Granger, you were always the most infuriating, maddening, and obnoxious know-it-all I ever had the chore of teaching. But beyond that, you were always my favorite. My best, my brightest. The utter honesty in his voice stalled the angry motions of the Weasley's even as it echoed across the silent field. He leaned over and smoothed away sweaty hair and kissed her forehead. Much to his surprise a voice whispered in his ear.

I would have gone and done potions. It was a weak and gasping voice, growing softer. 

Always my favorite, if you hadn't be such a bastard-- her voice faded, and Snape smirked for old times sake. He stepped back and allowed others to step forward. Approved classmates and younger students stepped forward told her the truth. How she affected them, how she changed their lives. The tears trying to well in her eyes let them know she cared as they said their goodbyes. After all her friends said goodbye, the seventh year Gryffindors stepped forward. Neville with tears in his eyes, hugged her, unable to even try to verbally express his love for the brown haired girl. Dean and Seamus, for some reason decided to bow, respect given to the undisputed Queen of Gryffindor. Moving in tandem Dean kissed her hand and Seamus gave thanks and love. Stepping back they stood to support Lavender and Pavarti. The air headed girls simply stepped forward, their heavy tears preventing any words. They simply smoothed salve on cracked and dry lips. Hermione smiled a tired grin.

Not close, but always, Always in heart. At that the two girls broke down, crying in the arms of the other Gryffindor boys.

The Weasley family stepped forward, love written on their faces, sadness in their eyes. Fred and George stepped forward and tried to joke.

The ultimate prank huh? We bow to your superior prankness. My nodded You know we love you right? A second sister? Even the slaphappy twins were affected by the moment, the younger students, going to school in the shadow of the Weasley twin legend were in awe of the tears in their eyes.

Ginny stepped forward and looked My in the eye seeing both friend and phoenix. Acknowledging both. She wrapped her arms around the girl, ignoring the building heat, and the smell of ozone. My sister. was all Ginny said before she stepped back, tears in her eyes.

Fred stepped up and wrapped his baby sister in his arms, ignoring the tears staining his shirt. Molly and Arthur stepped out from behind Snape and walked to the girl they had adopted. Arthur began to silently cry, overcome by his emotions. Molly patted her husbands shoulder and passed him, before wrapping Hermione in the patented Weasley hug. She leaned forward and placed their foreheads together.

Hermione, I had always hoped that you would be the next Mrs. Weasley, but you always knew your own mind. You are one of my own, I am sorry for all the misunderstanding that we have gone through, and I hope you know I consider you a daughter. She stole a look at the stoic Draco, Don't worry my dear, we will take care of him while you are gone. Don't forget we love you my dear. At that Molly broke down and her and her crying husband walked away.

Following the trend, Ron stepped forward and looked into the eyes of his best friend for seven years. I love you Hermione Granger. Ever since the day you took the credit for fighting the troll in first year. I love you so much that seeing you ache hurts my soul. I know your heart belongs to malfoy and I can accept that, I don't understand it, but I can accept it. While you're gone I'll look after him, make sure he doesn't get into any trouble. I know I haven't been the best friend, I know you needed help in fifth and sixth year and I didn't do anything. I know I yelled at you and made you cry, but all of it is because I am an idiot. I love you and I always will, when you get back I hope that I will have learned how to not be an idiot because you deserve a friend far better than me. Ron pressed his lips to hers, and stepped back. My's eyes widened with shock, stunned by the depth of his emotion.

the voice shook, I love you Ronald Weasley in the only way that has ever mattered. Never forget me? A tear fell from the boy's long face. He turned and walked towards his family's embrace, feeling a piece of his heart, his soul were missing. On his way, he gripped Harry's shoulder and muttered, Tell the truth and she understands. But hurry I don't think there is much time left.

Harry nodded jerkily and stepped closer to his sister. So ah Herms looking a little warm there, feeling all right? Draco surged forward to pull Harry away when snape held him back, even as the crowd shifted uneasily. The last thing they expected to here however, was a slightly crazed laugh.

Potter you great giant prat. Harry grinned and walked closer to his sister and looked her in the eyes.

Fire met verdant woods.

You know you taught me everything I have ever needed to know. Harry was serious again. When your parents died I decided that we both couldn't be alone, could have lost our family. So I made you my sister, in my mind, heart and by law. You are listed as my next of kin and my heir. You have a share in the Black and potter fortune and libraries. I fully expect you to be back and share it with me. I'll never get through all the books without you. I refuse to loose my sister right after she finds out that she is mine.

Hermione's voice was choked, whether on flames or emotions.

I love you Brother.Know that you will always have a place with me.I know. Another voice broke through.

She doesn't need one. She already has a place with me. Draco's voice was tight, fighting the tears that threatened to fall in front of others. The two looked at him. She will always have a home with me. A home filled with laughter and dance, where tears are forbidden. he withdrew a black box from his pocket. I'd like to to marry your sister Potter if she'll have me. Harry didn't even look surprised, he simply glared at Draco and kissed his sister before erecting a silencing charm around the duo. Before he left them he whispered.

I'll watch out for him, don't worry, if I can keep from killing him, I'll make sure that no one else will.

Drake noticed the sudden silence and thanked Potter in his head. He opened the box to reveal a diamond engagement ring, a diamond flanked on either side by an emerald and a ruby and a simple wedding band, a blended mix of gold, etched with a serpent and phoenix entwined together.

My I love you. I know you have to go. Have to complete the process my ancestors began so many centuries ago. I just want you to know that you have a place to return to. To me. As my wife. I love you. Will you marry me?

The crowd watched as bits of fire rolled down Hermione's face, even if they couldn't hear they knew what was going on. Draco dropped to one knee and slipped the two rings onto her slender finger. 

My let these rings guide you back. Back to me. My nodded and looked at the rings

I love you Drake. Always. I need at least one more dance with you. If I can return, I will. return to you, to Harry, to my family, but to you. Its always you. Drake leaned forward and brushed the hair from her face, not even noticing the heat from her skin.

He looked deep into her eyes and found the golden irises he loved so much, reaching forward he pulled her into a kiss, sweet and searing, filled with longing, love, passion and sadness. He gave her all that he had and accepted all that she gave.

Suddenly an inhuman wail shook the air, shattering the silencing charm that Harry had cast. My's head snapped back and she shoved Drake away violently. Ron and harry rushed forward to flank Draco. A beam of red light shone from her mouth, expanding to encase her whole body. The light grew darker and the wail grew higher until there was no sound left. The red light grew brighter and brighter shining with pure incandescent until it imploded into a single point. From that point a sound was heard, a companion to the song of Fawkes that spoke of love and loyalty, friendship and loss. Following the song a great bird of flame appeared and flew above their heads dropping sparks down on the watchers. It circled once around the trio of Draco, Harry and Ron before shooting straight into the sky, where it disappeared from view.

Draco looked down at his hand and saw a large clear jewel, the color of a ruby, but the clarity of colored glass. He looked around and saw that everyone that loved Hermione had received one. He looked at it in wonder, a Phoenix Stone. Fire freely given by the Phoenix, by Hermione. Looking closer he noticed a flaw in the perfection. Holding it up to the light, he looked into the center and saw it.

The engagement ring.

The ring he had placed on her finger just a few minutes ago. It felt like an eternity.

Coming to his senses he raced to the point where My had stood and stared down at the ashes. He sat. Waiting for the ashes to reform into the woman he loved.

At first everyone waited with him, all staring intently, waiting for a dear friends arrival. As time passed with nothing, the others began to leave, first other houses, then other years, and then other Gryffindor seventh years. Soon everyone had left, the Weasleys only under dire threat by Dumbledore.

Even Dumbledore looked lost, the twinkle gone from his blue eyes. The love had not saved her. It should have. He turned to leave as the sun set, leaving the trio of broken boys to stay at the ashes. Finally even Harry and Ron left, leaving Draco by himself to sit in the dark at the edge of the ashes waiting for them to stir.

They let him sit for three days, hoping he would come in for food, or sleep, or a cloak to ward off the chill of night, but he didn't. He waited. Mid morning on the fourth day Ron and Harry remembered their promise to their friend through a cloud of grief and went outside to confront Draco.

His head snapped up, eyes bloodshot but dry. She isn't coming back. We weren't enough of an anchor.But my ring. she kept the wedding ring. he showed the boys his phoenix stone. She is just waiting for the right time. This time ti was Ron. Ron with tears in his eyes and running down his cheeks. She isn't coming back.

Drake looked from one to the other, dread and a sorrowful understanding in his eyes.

She isn't is she? the boys shook their heads, and Drake began to sob, the heart wrenching gasps of a shattered heart, broken hope and crushed dreams. The other boys took him in their arms and they cried. Cried for the one person that made them whole.

And somewhere across the world, over the rainbow and throughout time, the ashes stirred.

Fin

Well this is the end. It has been a long time since I've updated and all I can say is real life was more important. If anyone really cares about it feel free to e-mail me and I can tell you about everything. Well thanks for over a year about support and enthusiasm. My novel will hopefully be called The Call of Avalon so in a few years look for it.

Its been a trip kids. I love you all.  
Cat


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